


Lost in Dreams of Detectives

by Almadynis



Series: Nova & Sara Adventures [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almadynis/pseuds/Almadynis
Summary: Two women get transported to a strange world. A world they know well...yet is also ultimately different. Making money by writing what they know, they fall into chaos of intrigue, danger, and drama.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> co-written with emptyvoices some years ago  
> being editted as posted

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Nova stretched languidly in pleasure as she had finally finished her the 3rd draft of her latest book of _The Doctor Chronicles_ and sent it off to her publisher. It always made her feel such a sense of accomplishment when she finally was able to sit back and admire her achievement.

 

She had been dreaming about the Doctor, a time traveler of the planet Gallifrey, for her entire life. Every night was a new adventure. Some were horrible and left her shaking, but she still experienced them along with her Doctor. When she reached high school and took a creative writing class on a whim, she discovered others could enjoy the Doctor’s adventures just as much as she. Students would randomly come up to her and ask about what had happened to the Doctor since her last assignment, eager for more.

 

At the end of her junior year, upon researching exactly how much college cost, Nova had been ranting about the predicament to her grandfather when he had innocently suggested she try to write her Doctor stories for ‘real’ and get them published to earn enough money to pay for the rest of her education. As smart as her Poppi was, her grandfather had never liked the limelight and was perfectly content to enjoy the successes of his family. He made his living as a small town mechanic; the one that everyone knew could fix anything. It was a meager monetary job, but he had never tried to go further. So, when it was time to pay for college, Nova had to find another way to do so.

 

It had taken almost three months to finish the first novel because Nova’s dreams, while consistently about the Doctor, were never in any sort of chronological order. It was more that she dreamed what her mind thought she could handle that day. After the one dream of the Scary Doctor, who just thinking his _real_ name made her afraid he would show up by some miraculous occurrence, it had scared her so badly that she had been afraid to sleep for almost three days.

 

Nearly twelve days of working with a massive corkboard,  pulling out all the details from her memory that she needed to write the first set of books that eventually became _The Doctor Chronicles_. She had the thought of starting at the beginning, with his life growing up on Gallifrey but her grandfather had vetoed the idea - quite vehemently actually - telling her that people didn’t want to read about those non-adventure-filled years. Eventually, she had acquiesced to his desire and decided to write about the Ninth Doctor, the one that came right after the Last Great Time War. Each adventure was another novel, with the thread of Bad Wolf bridging them all together until the last, which she had just sent off to her publisher. Thirteen books in total, for she only wrote about the big feats her Doctor experienced instead of the little trips he took all the time.

 

Her books hadn’t gotten a lot of acclaim, but she had done well enough that she was able to pay for college and then some. It had surprised her quite a bit to realize how avid her fans were. The few book signings she had done to drum up publicity for her novels had almost alarmed her with the amount of people that had shown up. She hadn’t won any awards or anything, but still it was enough money that she had wondered about just writing full time instead of her original plan, which had been to get her actuarial certificate since she liked statistics so much.

 

At twenty-four, Nova was almost finished with her master’s degree. She was on her last semester and eagerly anticipating having enough time to write again. While the first few books had been able to churn out about one every couple of months, the last two years with all her college homework assignments taking so much time, it had taken almost five months to complete the last book. Another month and she would graduate - finally! - and had decided to take a small break, to write full time for a little while, before starting to take her actuarial exams.

 

There were 4 tests before certification. She had heard the first two were easy but the second pair brutal. Maybe she could write while taking the first two, then have enough time afterward to be able to devote her full attention - other than stress-relieving writing breaks of course, let’s not get crazy - to studying again. But she had been in school for so long that she definitely felt like she deserved a break from it all.

 

Nova stretched again as she turned off her desk lamp and went into the kitchen, where she knew her grandfather would be tinkering on something. The man never slept - he barely even took cat-naps - and if he wasn’t in his shop, which it was too late in the evening for him to be, then he would be in the living room or kitchen messing with somesuch or another. He always needed to have something to do with his hands. When she was littler, she had walked in on him in his private workshed and the resulting explosion had fuzzed her memory, but ever since the experimental workshed had been locked up tight. He rarely was in there anymore. Yet, he never complained. The one time she had asked, he had given her a very sad smile and explained that he would enjoy being with her while he could.

 

“Hey Poppi,” she grinned at him. “I just finished the last one.”

 

“Good for you!” He put down his little tinkering mass of metal and wires. Getting up, he wrapped her in a congratulatory hug and kissed her forehead. “I’m so proud of you, my little supernova.”

 

She blushed hotly and her smile brightened considerably. He never said anything he didn’t mean and he never lied to her. “I’m about to head for bed.” He nodded, still grinning at her, and kissed her forehead again. As she went to go back to her room yet again - having only really come out to share the news and get her goodnight kiss - she turned at the threshold and looked back at him. “Thank you, Poppi.” she said in a quiet, serious tone.

 

It got his attention quickly, making him look up from his fiddling with a frown. “Something wrong, Nova?” He only ever used her name when he was concerned.

 

She shook her head. “No, but there are times when I know that without you, I wouldn’t have been able to go through these last few years. Ever since…” she trailed off even as a single tear fell. Both remembered the tragic death of her parents due to a drunk driver, delivering Nova into her grandfather’s demesne at the tender age of thirteen. She wiped away the tear, but didn’t stop her smile. If it had turned a little sad, he was polite enough not to comment. “You’ve taken care of me, helped me, supported me; even let me stay here because I didn’t want to be alone. Thank you.”

 

He gave her a soft snort in answer, getting to his feet to once again pull her into a tender hug. “I love you, little supernova. You are my family and I will joyously take care of you for as long as I can. Just as I took care of your father for as long as he would let me.” He kissed her forehead in the exact same spot as he always did, and gave her a tiny shove. “Now get to bed or you’ll be late for class in the morning,” he said teasingly in the same tone he had used when she was younger.

 

She giggled, but obediently went off to bed. The light went off and she snuggled further down into the covers and pillows. She mind quieted down as she began to drift off into the realm of dreams. Her night-time routine the same as it had always been.

 

She never knew that this night was different. That she would never see her grandfather again. That her life was about to forever change.

 

Nova opened her eyes, her mind filled with the images of her latest Doctor adventure. This one hadn’t been all too adventurous though, but she didn’t mind. The non-adventure adventures were some of her favorite. Sitting beside him - though he had never been able to see or hear her - as he tinkered with his TARDIS, just watching and listening to his ever-present babble. Those were her favorite moments. When she could just see _him_ , instead of the personae he felt he had to adopt for others.

 

However, when she did open her eyes, it wasn’t to the ceiling of her bedroom. She blinked, twice, but the odd-blue, just a shade or two off normal, just enough to notice, of a cloud-filled sky remained. “What?” she asked the air as she sat up. She appeared to be in some kind of park; trees all around her with a few people, who had stopped on paved paths, pointing and staring. At her. Nova got to her feet, looking around wildly as she tried not to panic. There was no Doctor anywhere, so it couldn’t be a dream. (She knew other people dreamed about different things, but she had always dreamed of the Doctor. He was always around and she liked to follow him.) Therefore, no Doctor meant not a dream. But what was it?!

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

A day that started out so simply. One moment, spent in excitement as Sara readied herself for her trip to London, staying at her parent’s home so they could drive her to the airport in the morning. The small amount of light was miniscule in proportion at first. She could dismiss it. But when the aperture began to open, she could no longer ignore it.

 

“Dad?” She called out beyond her closed door while staring at the light critically.

 

“Sara?” His familiar voice replied.

 

“You fiddling with the circuit breaker or something?” She stepped closer in her apparent examination, slowly reaching out to touch the edges of where the glow was coming from. _It looks like…_ She frowned and shook her head. _No._ She told herself fiercely. _That’s a story. This is real._ She adjusted the carry on bag she had been supplying with necessary essentials for her trip overseas. Her passport, purse, laptop, and numerous books to see her through the journey. At the moment, if there was a crack in the wall caused by the foundation, and she was seeing sparking on the other side, it would be a nuisance. She looked for the role of sturdy box tape she had just put in said bag. After all, she was one to pack too much rather than too little. It was better safe than sorry. But before her hand could fall on the needed tape to block the small crack, it started to grow by exponential degrees.

 

And her hand seemed to remain fixed to the surface of the wall, as though a form of liquid cement kept her palm affixed there.

 

“Dad!” She cried out. “Something’s wrong. I’m stuck! I can’t move. I...” She gasped, starting to feel a sense of dread as she tried ineffectually to pull away.

 

“Sara!” She heard him knocking. “Open the door.” His voice was muffled.

 

“I can’t!” She shrieked. “There’s all this light and… Daddy, please!” She protested feeling distinctly alarmed, cursing herself for having locked the door in the first place.

 

“I’m getting the key. I’ll be back in a second, honey. Don’t panic.” Her father assured her gently, trying to keep her calm.

 

“Dad!” She called. Now something altogether different and worse was happening. It was pulling her towards the light. She tried to grip onto the side of the heavy chest of drawers. Her fingernails scraped along the surface. This force, whatever it was, it was winning. A flash went through her mind. She remembered watching some of the old _Poltergeist_ films out of nostalgia. She recalled how the little blonde girl was pulled into the wall. Her family spent the rest of the story struggling to find her as she called out to them for help. Was that what this was? Poltergeists? Would she be trapped in some strange limbo as her parents called out for her? _No._ She thought frantically.

 

“It’s taking me. I can’t…” Dimly she heard her bedroom door open. Her father crying out her name. His hand gripped hers but their palms were sweaty. She slipped right through his fingers.

 

“Sara!” His voice was a shout. If she had seen his face for a moment, she would have noticed his sudden, horrified realization. The sense of _knowing_ exactly what this was. His words were desperate. “I love-”

 

The expression was cut off as the light consumed her and then she was confronted by a horrific void where her only manner of protection was a thick layer of light she didn’t understand that completely covered her and soaked into her skin, dragging her through the dark that wasn’t dark. A meaningless but howling _nothingness_. She tried to breathe, only she had no breath. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t scream. The illuminating barrier presented a comforting variety of soothing emotions that provided the meanest level of comfort; otherwise she doubted her own survival and sanity for a mere moment longer.

 

Suddenly, she woke up on a well-manicured lawn, amazed to find herself in such different surroundings. It had been night when she was in her room and now…? Her carryon bag was still strapped firmly around her arm, a remnant of her packing. She thought to call out for her father. If she was here, surely her father would be too. He had been right behind her. But where was here? Struggling upwards, she squinted through the brilliant sunshine. _Is that…the Mormon temple?_ She had seen pictures of it on prior occasions, having had a few Mormon friends. It somewhat reminded her of the Cinderella Castle at Disneyland Park in Anaheim, California. _But that’s in Utah._ She considered in amazement. _How did I get to Utah?_

 

Suddenly, the air seemed to condense and grow heavy in volume while Sara had a sensation that reminded her of static electricity. She felt surprise yet some intangible recognition she couldn’t promptly discern as she watched a girl with vibrant red hair shimmer into view similar to a mirage in the desert. A girl who seemed to be contemplating her surroundings with curiosity and wonder.

 

“This is different.” The red head seemed to acknowledge but to no one in particular, as though the events of being swept into an entirely different place were nothing but routine for her. Sara was silent for a moment at this consideration. _Were they normal for her?_ She swallowed, clearing her throat as the other girl looked at her in shocked surprised, as though Sara was the novelty.

 

“You can see me.” The redhead murmured, her voice filled with astonishment. “You can really see me.”

 

“Yes, of course I can see you.” Sara said. “But…” She took a deep breath. “You’ve done this before.” Her voice was rapid as she came out with her deduction. Maybe she was insane. “Whatever this is. I…I was in Seattle and then, there was all this light. A crack. Suddenly, I was here and… I’m sorry.” She was struggling to calm herself. “I just want to go home.”

 

“What’s your name?” The redhead asked quietly, as if trying not to make the girl any more anxious than she obviously already was while taking a careful gaze at her new surroundings.

 

“Sara.” The brunette clenched her hands together. “Sara Thomas.”

 

“Nova Morgansen.” The girl offered a brief smile. “I think the two of us should talk. Maybe we can help each other.”

 

Sara felt a fleeting sense of hope. At any rate, at least it was a start. However, she wondered if her father was here too or was he…? She thought of that horrendous place where a single second seemed like an eternity. How she had doubted her own survival in those few fragmented moments. Could her father…?

 

 _No._ She asserted firmly to herself. _He’s fine. He has to be fine! If he’s not here, he’s back at home, waiting for me. Both my parents are…_

 

“Let’s say we find some coffee,” Nova suggested but Sara shook her head.

 

“I don’t think there’s a coffee place near the Mormon temple.” She looked at Nova’s nightgown and made a decision. “I have an extra pair of shoes in my bag but you still need clothes. After we find some, I’ll treat us to a smoothie.” At least, Sara had pulled out a healthy amount of cash in anticipation of her trip. The two started to make their way from the Mormon temple and tabernacle, in the direction of the two shopping malls directly across the busy intersection.

 

Xxxxxxxxxx

 

They both could feel as time passed. The clock ticking slowly like a perpetual drum. “It’s no good.” Sara said bleakly. “Neither of our families are here. I accessed police departments and nothing…” She grimaced at Nova. “I’m sorry.” She gestured to the screen of the Salt Lake City Regional Library computer they had been running searches through for hours.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Nova tried to sound more reassuring than she felt. “May have found a solution to our problem. Broke through the social security administration firewall. We now officially exist. Also with the DMV but… It’s strange.”

 

“What is strange?” What could be more strange than being pulled through a glowing crack and waking up on the lawn of a church 500 miles from home?

 

“So many things are different here. Shows from home don’t seem to exist.” Nova pondered thoughtfully, as if she was speaking aloud.

 

“Such as?” Sara quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Well… _Terminator_ doesn’t exist here. Or _Donnie Darko_.” Nova shrugged in confusion. Time traveling killer robots had been for laughs but she liked the thought process behind that of limited alternate universes. “Kind of strange, isn’t it Sara?”

 

“Yeah…” Sara stuck the pen she had used to scribble notes into her mouth . “Oh, you won’t believe this. _Doctor Who_ and _Sherlock_ don’t exist. Not at all.”

 

“ _Doctor Who_?”

 

“Never watched it? It’s this show about this Time Lord that travels around time in a telephone booth that is-”

 

“-bigger on the outside than the inside,” Nova interrupted with an incredulous eyebrow.

 

“Then you have seen it!” Sara repeated excitedly. “I have all the shows on my computer and-”

 

“Shows?” Nova interjected again in absolute confusion. “Sara, they are just dreams for me. I dream about the Doctor. The years he spent in school. Different parts of his life. I didn’t have any shows…” She paused. “As for _Sherlock_ , I saw the documentaries of him in my former universe but that’s about it.” She focused back on the screen and grinned with ready delight. “Guess who the new Powerball winners are going to be?”

 

“Oh, Nova…kind of cheating isn’t it?” Sara asked reprovingly.

 

“We need all the help we can get.” Nova said when she saw the pool. Five million dollars.  “And if the Doctor isn’t a show or a book here, why not write it ourselves?” After all, she had been making money off writing about the Doctor for years. Why not? Though, the idea of writing all of it _again_ was incredibly disheartening.

 

“We need to find a way back home!”

 

“We will. But if we just sit alone in an apartment with nothing to do but try to think of ways to go home, we’ll go mad. You like to write don’t you?” They had been speaking together for time, trying to find similarities between their worlds and lives. Trying to find why they had come to this universe, out of all the people possible. Why them?

 

“I did it for my degree,” Sara confessed carefully.

 

“Well, then. The two of us. I can help with all the technical areas. I hope the publishing process is the same,” she muttered softly to herself before getting back to the point. “The realism. You try to come up with the twists. We’ll be a good team.” Nova paused as her mathematically trained mind inserted itself. “But yes, we should be pragmatic at first.”

 

“In what way?”

 

“I think we both want to make absolutely certain that the events didn’t happen in my dreams or as you remember them on the show.” She wasn’t sure why Sara remembered them being on a show. Maybe that was how her time sensitivity worked. “Better safe than sorry.” If the Doctor or Sherlock Holmes were actually _real_ , that would open an entirely new can of worms than what they were already trying to deal with.

 

Sara quickly nodded. “So we research, make some calls, see if there are listings with his companions. If UNIT, or Torchwood, don’t exist, or those Christmas events didn’t happen, I would say we’re home free. Besides, that ATMOS thing is supposed to happen soon, if I recall correctly. I haven’t seen any cars like that.” She had seen cars that had a smart assistant; if you were in an accident, they would contact emergency services but that wasn’t quite the same.

 

“Good point.” Nova nodded. “But if we do find Jack Harkness, he might be in a position to help us.”

 

“And if we don’t, we’re on our own.”

 

“We have each other and the royalties will help. It’s better than nothing.” Nova asserted, though her heart was in her chest as she realized that ‘nothing’ was exactly what they had to remember their home.

 

Xxxxxxxxx

 

It turned out that writing was a much better paying job, but the money would come in piecemeal, and only after the publishing house had at least half the first book - so they could be sure it was decent and worth the trouble. Internet publishing wasn’t even off the ground yet in this world, so Nova went back online and hacked a degree - completed whereas her own still was a month to go in her own dimension, but she didn’t think anyone would come harassing her about it - and got a job as a math teacher in a local community college to pay the bills in the meantime.

 

Every morning Nova expounded on what she had dreamed that night. Sara, equipped with a huge - the biggest they made - corkboard, would write up the essentials and put it on the Doctor Timeline that made up the board, connecting the card with several others with red string. It was their way of keeping track of all the little details that came with Nova’s dreams.

 

Sara knew the broad overview of the Doctor’s life from being forced to watch the show by her friends. Nova knew the details, even things that were never in the show. Between the two of them, Sara was using her time to write up the first episode - she kept insisting that it was a show in her world and Nova decided not to argue - called ‘Rose’.

 

It had been a big disagreement between the two girls. Nova had wanted to start at the beginning, back when the Doctor was born and go through it all, since she hadn’t done so before. Sara had adamantly disagreed. Eventually, they compromised. Sara would write the episodes she was more familiar with, but then would do flashbacks when relevant to earlier parts of the Doctor’s life for essential details.

 

It had been six months since they had ‘landed’ - for lack of a better word. Both had decided to stay in the Salt Lake region. Just on the off chance that it was the only way they could get back to their own home. Things were going okay. Their little apartment was decent. Nova cooked and Sara cleaned. It worked for them.

 

“Okay. ‘Rose’ has been sent off to the publisher. I should have ‘The End of the World’ ready in another month, with ‘The Unquiet Dead’ a month after that.” Sara said as she came into the kitchen where Nova was making a chocolate mousse for dessert. “We should be set money-wise for awhile. And you can stop teaching then.”

 

Nova smiled up at her gently. “I don’t mind teaching. It’s something to occupy my mind. You are a very good writer as well. Still…thank you for including me as an author.”

 

Sara had been unmovable on that topic. Instead of only having one author for _The Doctor Adventures_ \- different from Nova’s _Doctor Chronicles_ on purpose since it was Sara writing - Sara had insisted on naming them both even though Sara had done most of the actual writing. “Nonsense! Without you I wouldn’t have known all those little things about his childhood to put in the flashbacks. Makes some of the details more believable and relatable.”

 

They had looked—oh how had they!—for any sign of UNIT, Torchwood, or anything similar. Nothing. If such places and things existed, they were extremely good at hiding. A search for ‘Sarah Jane Smith’ came up with over nine thousand possibilities. And that was after isolating for Great Britain!  ‘Jack Harkness’ was much better with only seven matches. However, when they called the numbers listed, none were the man they were looking for. Calling the Visitor Information in Wales had not given them Ianto either but a female who had never heard of Ianto Jones or Jack Harkness.

 

After a solid two and a half months of diligent searching…they gave up. None of the people from Doctor Who, Sherlock, or a few other organizations that they were familiar with, were to be found in this universe. Either fictional or real.  Just…nada. Zip. Zilch.

 

Nova did have an idea to post a ‘hypothetical’ situation of their arrival on some of the more advanced listings, to see if they could get any of their chosen people contacting _them_ instead…but with no result. All the scientists said that the proposal was insane, with a few interesting calculations to prove them insane. Those equations had made Nova grin and chirp around for several days as she gobbled them up in happiness as she ‘fiddled’ with them…but her depression after she discovered they were either correct or she didn’t have enough knowledge to fix them was horrible and took several pints of chocolate ice cream and a cheesecake to help get her out of the funk.

 

In short, after so long, both girls had resigned themselves to living out the remainder of their lives in this new dimension. The good news was that, as soon as they were established authors, it would be a good life. They had eventually decided that after the _The Doctor Adventures_ took off Nova would take over writing them, and Sara would start writing _The Holmes Adventures_ , which Sara was much more comfortable with and enjoyed a lot more. That way both girls got to do what they liked best: writing. Sara insisted that _Sherlock Holmes_ was a wonderful hit, but also had admitted that _Doctor Who_ was more wide-range, which is why they had started with that ‘fandom’ - as Sara called it.

 

So that was their daily routine.

 

Nova dreamt and went to teach, Sara wrote.

 

It was almost a year later that their first book was published. It became a national bestseller in under three months. They brokered a deal with their publishing house for more. Nova quit her job to write full-time on the Doctor’s stories as they had planned. Sara started work on the Holmes stories.

 

Homesickness and missing their families came easily and quickly in the beginning. It took both girls supporting each other to get out of them. And sometimes…all they could do was hold each other and cry. But as the months, and the years, passed, the times were fewer and further between. They became sisters in all but blood as they clung to each other through the hard times.

 

It was almost five years after their first published book, with over 7 _Doctor_ books and five _Holmes_ books that the true nature of things began to come to light…

 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 


	2. Chapter 02

“I’m going to run out of episodes.” Sara muttered as she worked on ‘The Reichenbach Fall’, glancing up at Nova, who chuckled from her laptop, going over their notes for ‘Father’s Day’.  While the original premises, to Sara, were seen on television, the ability to embellish them as stories allowed for character introspection and the ability to fill in quite a few plot holes that seemed to linger. They often exchanged their rough drafts for the other to review and it was Nova who argued that the emotional fall out when John realized Sherlock had been behind the experimentation was subdued.

 

“And the sugar needs to be more suspect.” Nova had told her. “There is very little introduction to it. It needs to be a little more pronounced when each character is adding sugar, to ingesting it, up to the hallucinations.”

 

“You’re right,” Sara sighed. “But in the show, it was kind of vague, now that I think of it. I’ll adjust it and have it all processed and delivered from one facility that is local. That way, they can think the supply or one of the additives is contaminated there on a continual basis. Maybe mislead the readers by having an old record of lead in the water supply that wasn’t made public. Sugar has to be bleached by sulfur dioxide or treated with carbonation. It always gets dissolved in water.” She smiled deviously. “More John Grisham that way, right?”

 

“Who’s John Grisham?” Nova asked blankly.

 

“He’s a lawyer who wrote books. One about a town with contaminated water… Well…” Sara shrugged. “Never mind.”

 

And that was how their stories went. Missing their families but filling the void by continuing their writing. A few things happened to cause them to realize that a change of dimension wasn’t the only thing that simply occurred. Nova was cooking a cheese soufflé, while Sara teasingly called her Soufflé Girl after Clara. Since Nova’s dreams weren’t in chronological order, if she was lacking in some detail, she would ask Sara who would fill in the blank for what was missing. Although Clara’s inception and the fact that she was another ontological paradox did make sense, given what her dreams had detailed.

 

“So, the Time Lord Victorious is still the Doctor.” Nova assessed as she checked the oven temperature. “He just decides momentarily to abandon the rules of time because he’s tired of losing people. Becomes emotionally suppressed. He’s not the…Scary Doctor.” She still didn’t even like _thinking_ about the real name of that particular incarnation of her Doctor.

 

“Nova,” Sara sighed. “You can say it here. We’ve kept checking. The Doctor nor Sherlock exist here. If they did, wouldn’t they be on us for copyright infringement?”

 

“That might be the least of our concerns,” Nova let out a giggle. “If how you describe Sherlock’s brother is accurate.” She admitted the name rang a bell when Sara first mentioned him but living in the states, that was as much as she could say. She never heard of him from a fictional standpoint but for some reason, just like how the Scary Doctor terrified her, so did this Mycroft Sara had described in the pages of her story.

 

She shuddered, only to let out a stifled shriek when the heating pad had slipped from her palm and she accidentally touched the surface of the soufflé pan. The pain of the burn was searing, filling her mind with agony. Immediately Sara was beside her, grabbing her arm, turning the faucet on cold to douse her palm in the water. It was already reddened and beginning to blister. She could hear Nova’s whimpers of pain as Sara quickly turned off the stove, not wishing to start a fire.

 

“I’ll call our doctor.” Sara said, overwhelmed with empathy with what her friend was going through. She grabbed the cordless and was dialing numbers, hardly paying attention and not even noticing that Nova had stopped speaking to watch the glow radiate from Sara and over to Nova. Nova’s eyes widened when in moment her burn was gone, the skin healed like it had never been. Sara was on the phone, just now making contact to the nurse.

 

“I need a house call. My friend-” Sara was startled when the phone was pulled away from her and disconnected. “Nova, what are you doing?” She was feeling awfully tired suddenly. Maybe it was the adrenaline in reacting to her injury? “We need…”

 

“No we don’t.” Nova said, her stomach tightening as she looked at Sara who was now looking at Nova’s hand.

 

“But how did you…your hand.” Sara exclaimed. “The burn is gone. Did you…?’

 

“No. It was you.” Nova told her. “But I think… I think we need to be careful about doctors in the future.” She shook her head, thinking of her dreams. How she had seen her blood before and it was a shade darker reddish-orange than the humans here. That the few times she argued when it came to their contracts or even something simple as the postmaster insisting he needed Sara’s signature on a delivery and couldn’t take hers since it wasn’t official. She told herself she had been compelling but it seemed too quick. The fact that some of them changed their mind or in turn, she could almost hear their own thoughts. _Are we both losing grasp of our sanity?_ Nova knew that they certainly had more than enough reason to lose a few screws, considering what they had been through. However, this was another sign - one of many - that they needed to be extremely careful.

 

Two days later, their agent told them that the BBC wanted to negotiate terms into turning the two book sagas into television shows. “You’ll maintain ownership of the two series and will work with the script writers to adapt them to screenplays.” She paused. “But it’ll be a big change, I’m afraid.”

 

“How do you mean?” Sara asked in trepidation.

 

“It will require you both moving and taking up residency in London.” Their agent said. She looked genuinely forlorn. They had developed a relationship in the last five years and now…but this was the way of business. The woman sighed, shaking her head.

 

“London.” Nova swallowed. “But with the terrorist attacks they’ve been having, it doesn’t seem very safe.” She last read about a chemical attack that had been released into the air supply, which could have done some real damage if the military hadn’t acted in time. Before that, their president had died on their soil by the same group of extremists. She knew she couldn’t live her life in fear but London somehow seemed to be the target of a lot of militia involvement.

 

“It’s not as frequent as all that,” the agent assured them gently. “You don’t have to live in the City. Just nearby where you have access to the BBC studio. Your books are both primarily set in London and the surrounding areas. An American production company would be more limited in getting permission to use British soil. They might have changed it altogether to have it set in America and I think it wouldn’t have the same appeal to your audience.”

 

Sara nodded slowly. If they changed to make the stories American, it would be a form of selling out to the highest bidder and compromising on quality. Everything they had written wouldn’t have the same charm or texture that they would being in their original setting. She glanced at Nova and frowned. “We can’t have the Doctor or Sherlock be American.” She said wincing, thinking of some of the tremendously bad time travel movies in her universe and not wishing to see a repetition. She did not want to be responsible for another _Hot Tub Time Machine_ , or worse.

 

“No,” Nova agreed. She didn’t want to compromise on quality either. “We can’t.” She pressed her lips together. Finally, they both agreed to make the trip to London to make the new contract with the BBC.

 

It would be a week filled with packing as their departure date came ever nearer. When the taxi arrived to take them to the airport, Sara took a deep breath and tried for a joke. “You think we can get them to let us have a say in casting like J.K. Rowling?” At least, they both had that series in common. One good thing, which they could both relate to.

 

“We can always ask,” Nova replied easily. And ask they did.

 

In between unpacking into their new apartment in Little Whinging, Surrey - which both girls found hilarious - they went to the nearby studio to ‘negotiate’. The new _Sherlock_ series, named as such, had been assigned the writer Steven Moffat to work with Sara in developing screenplays. _The Doctor_ series had been assigned Russell T. Davies.

 

Nova wasn’t sure, but she thought she could start hating Davies. He was extremely pushy about how he thought things should go. She thought he did it because of her apparent age and thought he could boss her around. After two days of his attitude, she’d had enough and went above his head. She told the executive whosie-whatsit that either Davies was reassigned, checked his attitude, or she would pull out completely. She was quickly given wholesale veto power.

 

She arranged for Sara to get the same veto power for _Sherlock_.

 

Thus the two girls were able to get in on the casting choices. Just in time too. Word had gone out two weeks prior about a call. The morning of, Nova had thought it would be a good idea to bring their respective cork boards down to the casting office. Mainly for reference as each girl was looking for specific characteristics.

 

Sara looking for a Sherlock, John, Lestrade, and Mycroft for her characters. Nova looking for a Doctor, Rose, Jack, Jackie, and Mickey. If either was being honest with themselves, they really wanted the main characters done. Both were skeptical that such powerful men could be adequately portrayed by mere actors. Both were correct too.

 

“Think we’ll find a good one today?” Davies asked carefully. Ever since the SNAFU, he was very cautious with his words and tone. Nova hoped he calmed down and began to treat her more as a colleague than a servant or a virus.

 

“Who knows?” Sara sighed.

 

“Two days with no good candidates. I almost thought one was adequate…” Nova started dispassionately.

 

“…but adequate isn’t good enough. Yeah, I’ve got the same problem with finding a Sherlock.” Sara finished the thought. “We may have to look outside the country. What’s today for you?”

 

“First half of the morning is more Doctors. Then Rose readings.”

 

“Good luck.” Sara offered, trying to be encouraging.

 

“You too.” Nova took her coffee cup and went off to a separate room for her castings, Sara in the room next to hers for the _Sherlock_ readings.

 

By the time the Rose-hopefuls came in, Nova was almost convinced that finding a good Doctor was next to impossible. There were many great actors, but all of them seemed to lack some essential detail that was a part of the Doctor’s character, though details varied with each hopeful. None of them had all the pieces. She almost wanted to bang her head against a wall, thinking that may be preferable to listening to another screw up her childhood friend.

 

As a side-thought she peered over at Davies, “So what happens if we can’t find an actor for the Doctor?”

 

Russell shrugged, “We can do as you suggest and look outside the country. Hollywood has many actors. We can Skype in auditions.”

 

Nova sighed in relief. “Thanks, I feel better. I hadn’t thought of Skype.”

 

He gave her a half grin. “Glad I could help. What are we looking for in Rose?”

 

“Fear in facial expressions but not in tonality. Very gung-ho attitude. Caring. Adventurous. Sexy, but in a girl-next-door way. Modest.”

 

He nodded in response, jotting her answer down for reference then adding bits of his own. He _was_ the expert after all. Then called in the first girl to read.

 

About three hours after they began the Rose readings, Nova had gotten so tired of listening to the same inadequacy that she had gone over in front of her corkboard, laptop in hand, taking turns between writing the screenplay for Davies to look over later and the next book in the set. She still had half an ear out in case Russell called her over, but was mostly focused on her task. Personally, she thought that the man was probably enjoying not having her hover over him.

 

As she was making another note on an index card of a missed detail on the Doctor’s childhood and placing it in its correct spot on the corkboard - though she made a little mark on it to check in with Sara on making absolutely sure it was in the right spot later - her mind missed the telltale flash of a camera because Nova heard a female voice directly behind her. “That’s impressive.” The suddenness and unexpectedness of the comment almost made the redhead jump out of her skin. The woman, an older brunette lady, was immediately contrite. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

 

Nova held her chest, trying to get her pulse rate down to a reasonable level as she gave the woman a sardonic smile. “It’s alright. You didn’t do it on purpose. I get lost in my own world when I get to doing this.”

 

“What are you doing?” the woman asked curiously. She was older, maybe in her late forties or fifties, with brown hair and eyes. Nova had a small nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she should recognize her, but dismissed it. How could she know the other? She’d never been to London before. Maybe they had passed each other in a coffee shop or something.

 

Nova gestured to the middle of the corkboard where a long, segmented, inch wide strip of plain masking tape lay. “This is the Doctor’s timeline. From when I started writing with ‘Rose’ up until many years later.” She gestured off to the right side of the board. “These markings,” she pointed to specific emphasized marks on the tape, “are when the Doctor regenerates. We’ll need different actors then. I thought it would be useful for Davies to see.”

 

The other woman nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the board. “What about these bits?” she pointed to blue post-it notes that were scattered throughout the pieces. It was obvious that the majority of notes, on white index cards, were of the stories at that particular time. But there were other colored post-it notes as well.

 

Nova smiled at the other’s interest. Not many other than Sara ever looked at her board, much less took enough time to have questions about it. “Those are notes from the Doctor’s past, not current, that influence actions. Like this one where he remembers his granddaughter Susan.” She pointed to one in particular. “The orange ones are for TARDIS details.” She gestured to the very few notes before indicating the next set. “And the green are for companion details. Like this one on Sarah Jane Smith.” Nova pointed out the little post-it. “She won’t turn up very often in the television series, but it’s important when she does.”

 

“How so?”

 

Nova missed the wary tone in the voice, only really registering the curiosity. “Well, a different perspective on what happens to companions after they stop travelling with the Doctor. Rose meets her a couple times and they chat about such things.”

 

“I see.” The woman looked very thoughtful, serious.

 

Nova finally saw that, turning to peer at the woman in concern. “Are you alright?”

 

“Hmm? Oh yes. Just thinking.”

 

“If you came to read for the part of Jackie, I think that’s not until tomorrow.” Nova said kindly. “Though I do appreciate you taking an interest. Most don’t care about my board.”

 

“Oh, I _definitely_ find it interesting.” Nova wasn’t sure she understood the woman’s odd tone. She was distracted by the woman’s next question. “Where do you get your ideas? Did you base the Doctor on a real person? Your father maybe?”

 

Nova giggled. “Nope. I’ve been dreaming about the Doctor for as long as I can remember.”

 

“Really?” Surprise. “You don’t dream about anything else? Ever?”

 

“Uh-uh.” Nova shook her head with a small smile. “It’s always been him. I know it’s strange. But true.”

 

“Truth is often stranger than fiction.” Nova nodded her agreement. “Well, I need to be picking up my son from school. He’s only thirteen.”

 

“Okay. It was nice talking with you.”

 

“Oh, I have a feeling we’ll have a chance to speak again soon.” The woman said sagely. As if she knew something that Nova didn’t.

 

It made the redhead uncomfortable. A chill of unease Nova couldn’t put her finger on went down her back. She had a feeling whatever she was missing, was a very _big_ something.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Moffat was a problem. Sara knew he potentially could be but calling him egocentric was putting it mildly. He was condescending and sometimes even insulting. A week later, Sara had slammed a mug of hot tea on the conference table, which splashed all over his expensive suit.

 

“You don’t seem to like anything, do you Mr. Moffat?” She demanded. “You want all the women to be either clearly stupid around our main character or a dominatrix. Nothing in between.” She took a deep breath. “While the character may have an ego, that doesn’t mean the women in the show should suddenly forget any education or IQ they have accrued and…” She pressed her lips together. “You have only called back a limited pool of white actors to test for the parts. We are opening the roles to anyone. If you need a reminder, slavery was abolished in the 19th century. Sometime later, women received their right to vote.”

 

He was furious. He then lashed out at her and stormed off to the production head saying he was an established screenwriter for other series and British, compared to Sara who was just an American. They needed to do something to negotiate the rights so he would have full control over her stories.

 

He was outright refused and told to behave himself otherwise he would be taken off the project. In deep reluctance, he obeyed but Sara could tell he detested every minute.

 

But casting was arduous in itself. She met with so many actors, often to test the dialogue when Sherlock and John first met. No one seemed to have the natural flair for the part. The chemistry that should jump out at the screen. Sitting through twenty readings was giving her a splitting headache, while considering Daniel Gillies. While he may not have all the Sherlock qualities, he was the right age and had a degree of sophistication. Still he was born in New Zealand. Perhaps, compromises to this extent could be made or otherwise, he would work as John Watson. Yes, she might see that.

 

She went back to her main storyboard over lunch. Each episode was drawn out with summarizing scenes until episode nine. She was working on the tenth. The drawings were vague and nonspecific so as not to show a specific character’s face.

 

“Am I too late?”

 

Sara turned in surprise at the voice behind her. A man, tall, well dressed, a bit thin although wearing clothes carefully layered to hide it, she was struck by the resemblance. The hair color was different as well as the eyes. More a greenish-blue. Reddish hair, a relaxed expression. He was looking at her questionably.

 

“Sorry.” Sara swallowed, speaking quickly. “Caught me off guard but….” Her lunch was forgotten on the table. “No, I can spare a few minutes for one last screen test. You’re reading for Sherlock Holmes, Mr…..”

 

“John Altamont.”

 

She let out a breath. _Absolute paranoia. Different dimension so different names. Nova explained this._

 

“Alright, Mr. Altamont.” She started. She didn’t have Daniel Gillies still here to test him with John so they would have to skip to a scene between Sherlock and Molly. She brought out two copies, thumbing through the pages, while prompting the cameras to start recording at a switch in her hand.

 

“A very interesting story you have there.” John said, looking at the storyboard.

 

“Yes, well, not all of it is scripted yet but-”

 

“You have the knowledge already in your mind.” He completed, his eyes roaming the board with an intensity that bothered her. “Beginning and the end, how intriguing.”

 

“I like to plan ahead.” Sara said. “Do you mind reading a scene between Sherlock and Molly? I’ll take the part of Molly and you read Sherlock. See how natural it feels?”

 

“No doubt, I’ll find it natural enough.” He quipped but accepted the script to the page he turned to. “Just a cold reading I am to suppose.”

 

“It’s a rough script. A few episodes in. We’re working to revise Molly a bit but so far, this is what we have. It will be enough to test with.” She paused. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

“I.O.U. Glycerol molecule. What are you?” His voice took on a unique hypnotic focus.

 

Sara cleared her throat. “What did you mean, 'I owe you'? You said 'I owe you'? You were muttering it while you were working.”

 

“Nothing. Mental note.”

 

Sara hesitated before reading the line, reminded of her own lost family. Her father’s voice calling out to her before everything she knew disappeared. “You look a bit like my dad. He's dead and…” She allowed her voice to trail. The original Molly apologized for this comment. It was one thing Sara removed.

 

“Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not the time.”

 

Sara pressed her lips together. “When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely. Except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad.” How she wished she could see her father one more time. Her heart clenched at the idea. While she and Nova did their best with only each other, it still wasn’t as wonderful as being in her own father’s arms again would be.

 

John was looking at her curiously but continued reading. “Molly...”

 

“But you look sad...when you think he can't see you. I know you are.” She paused.

“Are you okay? Don't just say you are, because I know what that means: looking sad when you think no one can see you.”

 

“But _you_ can see me.”

 

“Maybe I don't count...or do I? What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, I can help you.” She swallowed. “I just mean... I mean... If there's anything you need – I can do it.”

 

“B-but what could I need from you?”

 

“Maybe nothing. Perhaps everything. I don't know. But you could probably say 'thank you' actually.”

 

John paused significantly, as if to test the words. “Thank you.”

 

“I'm just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything? No, I know that answer already. You don’t.”

 

“Well, actually, maybe I'll...”

 

Sara shook her head. “I know you don't.”

 

The scene over, she stopped recording and logged the digital feed. Not surprisingly, it was the best one yet. She only hoped Nova’s efforts would soon pay off. “I would like you to come in again.” She said, pulling out her planner and looking at the date. “I would like you to read with someone we are considering for John Watson but Mr. Altamont, you were very good. I’m impressed.”

 

“So am I.” He said. “Two American authors writing two British series so adeptly. And where is your esteemed co-author?”

 

“Working late with her screenwriter and producer. The show is fairly complicated and they don’t have half the cast assigned-“

 

“A pity. You both are here in London on your own. Has anyone even offered a tour?”

 

“I… Well, no but…”

 

“Then allow me the pleasure,” he said simply as Sara stared at him in shock. “I assure you that acting is mainly a simple hobby of mine. I was interested in just meeting you both.”

 

“Mr. Altamont,” Sara started, “I don’t mean to be blunt but there was an accident. Nova and I lost our families and well, after that… I’m not in the position to date anyone.”

 

“Then by all means, it is not a date,” he stated but Sara stood stock still until he supplied a business card. “You see, my _brother_ is an esteemed politician in London. I would not care to risk a scandal or nefarious activity by any actions of mine.”

 

It was strange. His eagerness to go on this very not-date but she looked down at the card, closing her eyes. She also didn’t want to risk muddling with politics when the television shows were so close to being launched.

 

“Alright.  I’ll check with Nova. If she can pull away from what she’s doing, then we’ll go.” Sara said as John inclined his head. Somehow even though she should be leaping for joy at finding such a good match to play the part, a part of her was rankled. Was it his persistence? Surely, she had been asked out before. Maybe once she spoke to Nova and explained the circumstances, a rational discussion would ebb away her uncertainty.

 

But it was in that hallway, she nearly bumped into a middle aged woman with long brown hair. She gave her a quick glance and nearly froze. _Sarah Jane._ She thought. She didn’t waste another moment, pushing down the hallway straight into Nova’s office.

 

“Nova! Something really weird is going on here!” She said.

 

“You too?” Nova asked wearily.

 

“Oh yes me too! First it was Sherlock’s duplicate or the actor’s. Different name though. John Altamont and then…I could have sworn I saw Sarah Jane Smith just walking down the hallway. Is it me or are we just going mad?”

 

Nova closed her eyes, taking a moment to just breathe. “I thought she looked familiar. It’s been so long since I’ve dreamed about Sarah Jane and Rose…” she sighed heavily. Abruptly, she shook her head sharply. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Okay? Analyze facts.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

“Fact one: just because they looked a certain way before does _not_ mean that they look like that in reality.” Sara nodded. Made sense. “Fact two: from what you’ve told me of Mycroft, if he was real he would never have let the publishing house publish the books to begin with. He’s too paranoid and secretive for that.”

 

“Unless he thought that the books would throw people off track into thinking he was fiction.”

 

“Then why would he and Sherlock be investigating now?” Nova countered with a raised eyebrow. “The two would be fine with it and leave us to making their names a household fictitious pastime. Maybe change their own to avoid confusion, but still.”

 

“Okay. So either it’s a huge coincidence or the brothers are real and leaving us to ease the attention off of themselves. I guess I can buy that. What about Sarah Jane?”

 

Nova gestured. “Again a coincidence.”

 

“Both happening on the same day?” Sara said with a skeptical eyebrow of her own.

 

“True random patterns include clustering.” The mathematician said with a shrug. “Like hearing the same song over and over again on the radio. It happens.”

 

“Okay. And if it _isn’t_ a coincidence?”

 

Nova sighed again, deeper this time. “For a second, let’s forgo that we spent months and months making absolutely certain that no _Doctor Who_ or _Sherlock Holmes_ characters existed. Let’s pretend that they are real.” Her friend nodded. “We both know we’re never getting home. It’s been too long for the crack to still be active. Finding the correct dimension would be next to impossible. Actually travelling there _is_ impossible. It’s been too long. There’s no possible way, in any math that I know of, for us to get home.”

 

Both girls choked back tears, but each nodded their understanding.

 

Nova continued. “Our actions have proven that we know a lot more than we should. At best, we are a planetary risk. At worst, a universal one. By Gallifreyan law, we would fall into the Doctor’s jurisdiction and he would be well within his rights to confine us both to his ship for the duration of our lifespans. I doubt he _would_ , but you get the idea.”

 

Neither girl liked the idea of being held against their will. “On the flip side, running would be useless. We are literally a household name in a lot of countries because of the success of the books. Our pictures are on the back covers. We’d be recognized wherever we go.”

 

“If Mycroft and the Doctor both exist, then Mycroft, if his character is as you’ve described to me, would probably have some sort of deal with the Doctor. Have those two working together would guarantee they find whatever they are looking for. Regardless of what it is.”

 

Sara nodded slowly. “So…it’s a coincidence or we are screwed.”

 

“Basically. Which is part of the reason we made **_damn_** _sure_ that none of them existed years ago.” Nova shrugged helplessly, though her eyes were serious and stubborn. “It _was_ a casting call, Sara. They probably were just actors.”

 

“But…”

 

“Occam’s Razor, Sara. What is more likely? That they are great actors auditioning for parts that we advertised for? Or they are the real-life versions of characters that we spent months making absolutely certain were fiction?”

 

Sara gave a small smile, “Well, when you put it like that...”

 

Nova grinned in reply. “Exactly. Now, let’s go home.” She didn’t mention it to her friend, but the redhead had a bad feeling. She hadn’t lied directly. She was certain that if Mycroft and the Doctor actually _did_ exist that the pair had made a deal decades ago for working together. _If_ they existed, it would be child’s play for them to find out how, when, where, and – most importantly – _why_ Nova had hacked the computer system to give them identities. She shivered again with a deep sense of absolute dread.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

 

“And John?” Sara asked. She saw Nova’s confusion. “Sherlock’s alias here. He asked us to go out with him to dinner. Should we just…” She gave a shrug.

 

“What would you have done if another actor had attempted to make the same proposal?” Nova proposed and Sara grimaced. It simply wasn’t professional and it felt distinctly underhanded. “Exactly. Now, let’s go. I’m sure after ten or fifteen minutes, he’ll figure out the answer is no.”

 

Nova shook her head briefly remembering a flash before the supposed-Sarah Jane has spoken to her. A camera flash? Her corkboard didn’t just have the Doctor’s past…it had his future. A shiver ran down Nova’s spine at that thought. Gallifreyan law could – and would – do some very horrible things to her for such information. If the Doctor was real, knew that she was aware of his personal future, and that she had written such things down, let alone made that information even _slightly_ available…another shiver went down her spine.

 

“Are you cold?” Sara asked in concern.

 

Nova tried to smile in reassurance. “Draft. Thinking about how things are going to work on set.”

 

“Yeah. Moffat is horrible!” That got both girls started on the many irritations of their respectivly assigned screenplay writers. Nova let herself get lost in the conversation. At this point, there was nothing either could do if the Holmes’ brothers or the Doctor were in fact real. All they could do was take things one at a time as they came. Survive.

 

But mostly, she didn’t want to think about the Doctor finding out she was the textbook definition of a time sensitive. If he was real… her life would be in his hands. He would ensure it. The Doctor was many things. Could be many things. Charming was one of them. But when the universe was at stake, he had very little mercy. Time sensitives were incredibly dangerous.

 

Nova shivered again, clutching her sweater closer to her. She couldn’t help her eyes darting around into every alley they passed, hunting for a very unique blue.

 

That night she dreamed of a Doctor she didn’t know, a companion she had never seen named Lilly. A companion that wasn’t…

 

Even in the dream, Nova realized with dread that the events she saw was the best scenario a time sensitive could possibly hope for. It could be so much worse. When she woke, Nova wondered why she had dreamed about a companion and Doctor that weren’t familiar to her. She pondered the implications as she made apple-cinnamon pancakes for breakfast.

 

She heard a gentle knocking and called out. “Sara. My hands of covered in batter, could you get the door please?”

 

Sara obeyed but nearly choked on her tea she was sipping to see who was at the door and to whom he accompanied. Well, on one hand she might have expected this level of obnoxiousness from Steven Moffat who was always cavalier in how he handled matters. From what Nova said, Randy T. Davies had an ego of his own to contend with but upon the showdown, he became milder. She often wanted to tell Nova how lucky she was to end up with him instead of the other way around. If she had the choice, she would trade in a heartbeat.  Moffat only pretended sincerity and it was quite obvious it was a lie. Oh, she could read lies since she had been a pretty bad liar herself.  Being with Nova and in this dimension, she had learned a little about maintaining a poker face but the truth was, she didn’t like lying, therefore hadn’t the affinity for it. But in this business….

 

She tried to swallow her surprise and shock to see Moffat and John Altamont (or so he called himself) at the door. “Mr. Moffat, we weren’t meeting until tomorrow.” She knew her schedule backwards and forwards. “What’s the urgency?”

 

“Urgency, Miss Thomas?” Moffat pretended confusion. “That’s difficult to say. Exceptionally hard when you leave one of our biggest investors in the lurch. Mr. Altamont visited my office after you two stood him up for a dinner meeting.”

 

“Dinner meeting.” She repeated blankly, seeing Moffat’s slow smirk come to surface at Sara’s seeming mistake. What was this? First he was actor testing for a part and now he was a….oh, enough of this. She turned to the man in question. “So, first you tell me you’re an actor, now you’re an investor and a producer. Are you one or the other?”

 

“Both to be accurate. My interests are relatively diverse.” He looked positively unruffled. “Considering the circumstances, I’m willing to forgive your lack of appearance if you agree to meet with me this afternoon to discuss the finer points of our relationship.”

 

 _Relationship._ Sara thought with a shudder. “You assume I forgive you.” Her words were cold.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Mr. Altamont, Mr. Moffat, neither one of us needs this. We thought doing the shows might be an interesting challenge but we maintain the rights to these stories. Something that was negotiated into the contract. And now, I feel exceptionally tempted to exert our right of cancellation and return to the states. I don’t know how Nova feels….”

 

“I agree. Infringing on our privacy is considered a form of harassment.” Nova spoke quietly behind Sara. She had since washed her hands, hearing the contentious voices from inside the kitchen. “We were doing well with book sales. Perhaps we were mistaken in not pitching this to an American production company.”

 

Moffat looked incensed. He had already put so much time into the scripts, not to mention the rewrites Sara had insisted upon. Randy T. Davies said Nova was just as particular wanting more detail in the dialogue and explanation for the Doctor’s reaction. They already had a partial cast for both shows even if they didn’t have the main show runner. “You really want the shows to be Americanized?” He asked with gritted teeth. “That’s your answer?”

 

“Or not done at all.” Nova said.

 

But that wouldn’t do. They already announced they would be filming shortly. Sara had her arms folded across her chest. She wasn’t about to let some guy that waltzed into the set who essentially lied to her dictate her actions. She would never let anyone have that satisfaction.

 

“So much antagonism.” John Altamont interceded. “Is it really necessary? I’m only asking that you meet with myself and the other investor for lunch. If you truly aren’t pleased at close of trade, then by all means, the show can be cancelled. What harm is there in a meal to discuss business?”

 

 _Because this isn’t just business._ Sara thought. _It’s something else…it’s….._

 

“Fine. One meal.” Nova decided, speaking for them both. Usually she could pick up stray thoughts from the various people she worked with but this man, well, she had a hard time discerning anything in particular and what she could feel….the flickers was the insatiable curiosity. A hunger. He wanted…..something. But at any rate, she knew she wouldn’t get them out of their doorway until they agreed and then in those hours prior, they could plan.

 

He smiled. “Very well. Shall we say one o’clock at the Rules near Covent Gardens? I’ll have a driver take you-“

 

“We prefer the tube.” Sara said. “More expedient than the traffic.” She played along with Nova. “But fine, one o’clock.” She already knew of the restaurant since it was featured in Downton Abbey and was considered one of the oldest in London. Essentially one that prized itself on various selections of roast along with an extensive drink list. _A restaurant with a menu for game._ She thought as other thoughts came unbidden into her mind. _‘The game. The game is on.’_ A quote from the original television series. Now as they watched the two leave, she wondered if it was truly the beef that would be for lunch or was the game of choice on the menu now going to be them.

 

Her mouth was dry as she felt the air condense. The hunters seemed to be starting to circle around them. “I have a bad feeling about this.” She told Nova.

 

Nova nodded herself with a small sigh. “You want to make a bet?”

 

Sara raised an eyebrow at her friend. “On?”

 

“He said ‘fellow investor’. I’m wondering if it’s Mycroft or the Doctor. I’m thinking either at this point.”

 

“Occam’s Razor, you said.”

 

Nova sighed heavier. “Let’s face it, sweetie. The probabilities and possibilities are dwindling in likeliness. An ordinary actor wouldn’t come to our apartment. An ordinary investor would not pretend to be an actor. I can understand an investor being sneaky, making sure his money is being spent wisely, but going so far as to pretend to be an actor?” She shook her head. “Not to mention verbally and politically backing us into a corner.”

 

“So…we need a plan.” Sara mentioned.

 

“We need a plan.” Nova agreed. “Let’s talk about it over pancakes.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 

So, precisely at one o’clock, the pair arrived at Rules restaurant. “Hello. We’re here to meet – “

 

She was cut off by the maître d’ nodding, gesturing the girls onward into the depths. “Yes miss. You are both expected. This way please.” Sara tried not to imagine that it was going to their doom.

 

They came clothed in comfortable-casual. Which meant jeans, black sneakers, and nice cool, airy blouses. Nova in a blue that matched her eyes. Sara in a green to set off her own. They had decided to act comparable to how they treated Moffat and Davies: direct, firm, unyielding. Considering their other options, it was the best they could come up with. It wasn’t like running would help and both knew that. If they did run, they would only make it to the parking lot if they were lucky before hiding goons nabbed them.

 

However, if they approached the situation as if they were in the right – which they _were_ by all legalities and contracts – and as if this was a grievance – which it was – then (theoretically) they would have the upper hand. They had made a firm resolve not to get visibly angry. No raised voices. No sudden movements.

 

Basically, they were going to pretend they were hostage negotiators. Or queens. Whichever worked. They had done nothing wrong and were going to act as such. This meeting was obliging, nothing more.

 

As the maître d’ gestured them to a table in a better part of the room, not too close to the kitchen, in a private alcove so as not to be easily disturbed or overheard, they finally got a good look at the two gentlemen waiting for them.

 

John Altamont was one, though he had dressed for the occasion. As in, he looked like a casual, though well-moneyed, businessman. Both girls remembered that the original Doyle Holmes’ brothers had been born into privilege and knew quite well how to comport themselves as well-bred British gentleman.

 

Nova’s eyes drifted to the other male. He was just as tall as Altamont. His features incredibly similar as well. High aristocratic cheekbones. He was dressed similarly to Altamont as well. She blinked at the umbrella leaning casually against the back wall of the alcove.

 

Both girls now knew with whom they were having a luncheon. But wondered how far these two would take things. Mycroft had never used an alias; he had never needed one. How much would the pair claim ignorance?

 

“Miss Nova Morganson. Miss Sara Thomas. May I present the second main investor in your productions, Mr. Mark Gatiss.” John Altamont bowed as a perfectly bred gentleman would as he made the perfect introductions.

 

Sara and Nova exchanged glances as they settled into the seats opposite the males. The way the alcove was designed none of them had their backs to the open area, but it also made the two seated next to the wall – Gatiss and Nova – much more difficult to extricate themselves if needed. Sara was beside Nova, Altamont next to Gatiss.

 

Looking at the two males, both quite obvious (to them anyway) with who they were, Nova wondered how accurate Sara’s portrayal of them actually were. They seemed to be getting along rather well. Sara had said they had a sibling rivalry. It was how they were portrayed in the books. Not incapable of working together…but difficult.

 

Perhaps the reason they were so supportive of the books was not just to throw people off the fact that they were real. But for those that did in fact believe in their existence being thrown off from their actual personality types and bearings. If the Holmes’ brothers were able to work together without conflict…what would that mean? Especially since in Sara’s knowledge the Doctor Who world was entirely apart from the Holmes’ world. Perhaps the fact that the two were (maybe) intertwined in this universe that made the difference. Instead of investigating boring criminals, Sherlock used his insatiable curiosity and deduction skills to the far more entertaining alien world. Heck, given his personality (or what she knew of it) Sherlock would be a wonderful head of Torchwood or UNIT. Or both.

 

With Mycroft in the background, as he liked to be, pulling the strings of world governments to keep silent the fact of alien origins and reality. Covering up incidents – such as the Atmos event – into believable stories the public would accept. With what she knew of him, and what she was currently seeing in the body language of the two, Nova blinked hard as a surface thought abruptly occurred to her. Mycroft wasn’t the British Government. He was the _Earth Government_ …or all the most important bits. A master political puppeteer.

 

Her head tilted as she analyzed the two men, unaware they were watching her with just as much curiosity and deduction.

 

Sherlock and Mycroft worked with the Doctor – when he was around, that is – to the benefit of the entire planet. It was their biggest compromise. The pair were easily able to control things but the Doctor was an even bigger threat than they were, so they capitulated to the Doctor’s rules. Mainly that nothing was genocidal in nature. Ever. The brothers’ worked to ensure the Earth’s safety. Sherlock from alien incursion – in cohesion with the Doctor – and Mycroft from humanity itself.

 

So…the stories they had written were just that. _Stories._ Fiction. The odd part was that it had real people in it. The brothers’ probably thought the Holmes’ books were hilarious in their inaccuracies.

 

This dinner was about their own curiosity. They wanted to know about the girls. How did they know of Holmes’ existence to begin with? Why dare to write such things?

 

Or at least…that was what it _had_ been. Nova blinked twice as she came almost out of her thoughts. Sara was the Holmes’ priority. Sara knew of the Sherlock Holmes things from her original universe, distorted with this universe’s reality though it was. She could easily pass it off as fantasy if Sara stuck to her guns. It was the truth, after all.

 

Nova though…this could get very tricky. She knew her friend would never leave her and greatly appreciated that, but also knew that this could get very bad very quickly if they weren’t careful. Nova resolved to keep as quiet as she could get away with, suddenly fearful of saying the wrong thing.

 

Sara kept her expression still in seeing the elder brother or Mark Gatiss as he was introduced. It was after all, no worse than they discussed or imagined. She had been writing the stories for so long, trading knowledge between Nova that she felt she was far more pragmatic and less idealistic when it came to the characters. Five years in another dimension had taught her cynicism. It had delivered to them both the burden of grief that without each other and their writing would otherwise be horrendous to bear. She felt Nova take her hand and was once again amazed by Nova’s gift with telepathy for which she had no benefit of any instruction. _Not that she needs it._ Sara thought. Nova learned well enough at her own pace. Sara might be able to convey emotions to her friend but words? No. It scared Sara already to see her own injuries start to self heal much less how she was able to heal others. At least, Nova had a way with many people to hide her ability. But if they saw Sara heal….she shuddered internally. She would be a freak. She might as well join a circus.

 

 _Careful._ Nova said mentally. _Stay with….story. Fantasy._

 

Sara frowned but the emotions were clear. Nova was worried and she had enough discernment to know they matched or went beyond the profiles Sara had dictated. She drew in her years spent working on her college degree in public relations and communications. _Tell only relevant truth. What they need to know. Then, I won’t have to lie._ If it was just a PR or a brand campaign, that very premise might be easy but what she was dealing with here were rules of diplomacy and guttural tactics.

 

“Mr. Gatiss, a pleasure.” Sara managed but extended her hand out to shake. She had to be professional. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before considering both your interest. Your partner’s introduction was unconventional.”

 

“It is I who should be apologising to you. My brother does have a flair for the dramatics and could never resist as it seems an open casting call.”

 _Was that really the excuse?_ She remembered his reading. It was more of an evaluation, which then was followed by a proposition. Entirely inappropriate but….she recalled in one of the episodes that had yet to be scripted or written (she should say), where Sherlock proposed marriage to access Magnussen’s office.  He dated a woman, used her and abandoned her just to advance a case. The same was relatively true in the original books although the original canon character had a better disposition around women. She had been trying to improve on the script to reach a steady compromise between the two so his personality would be distinct while adding flawed realistic strength to the female characters.

 

“I see. A shame. I gave him a callback. I think you missed your calling, Mr. Altamont.”

 

“Perhaps.” John just gave a casual shrug. “I am not disinclined to take a more active role than merely an investor. Stage theatrics has always had a particular draw.”

 

“That might be a conflict of interest. Our viewers and the media might accuse me of lack of diversity. Prejudice.” That was a reasonable excuse. Besides, she had decided to give the part of Molly to a black actress. If she could choose, she would like the pairing of Sherlock and John to be just as diverse. It might just throw the brothers off to know she didn’t have any particular faces in mind or so she said.

 

“Considerably liberal. You’re both Americans. Where was your family from?”

 

“Sea-“ Sara cut herself off as she felt Nova pinch her fingers. Oh, that was a very near slip. “Utah. Near Provo.”

 

“I see.” Mark’s eyes gleamed at this slip and Sara knew he was aware of her mistake. _Damn it._ “Now just to be clear-“

 

“Are there any drinks I can bring your table?” The server asked.

 

“I’ll just have tea, with milk, no sugar.” Sara ordered. Nova quickly nodded. “Tea for me too. Chamomile-“

 

“That usually makes you so tired Nova and it’s only mid day.” Sara’s expression was firm. She already made one mistake. If Nova drank an herbal blend combined with sugar, which would be no help in combating tiredness, she might not fully have all her wits about her. Usually, with Nova that was alright. She had more than enough intellect to battle exhaustion or fatigue. But now? They needed all their wits and then some about them.

 

“Right.” Nova mentally corrected herself. “Better make it a coffee. Milk and sugar.”

 

“Now, there is no need not to celebrate our business venture.” Mark just leaned back in his seat. “Two bottles from the Cayuse Vineyard for the table. I think it’s very appropriate, don’t you Miss Thomas?”

 

Sara felt she was suffocating. It was a vineyard located directly in Washington State. She knew it. It was one of her favorite wineries. Since liquor licensing laws were so regimented in Salt Lake City, she became a member of the Wine Club to order bottles of different varieties from that winery as well as two others. Nova would tease her about it but still enjoyed the product just as equally.

 

The server disappeared as did their apparent hope of distraction.

 

“The last five years have been quite an adventure for you both since your regrettable accident. And from your own distress, you decide to write two very remarkable stories.” He breathed in at their silence. “Tell me, how is Sherlock Holmes to end?”

 

“That’s a writer’s privilege.” Sara tried.

 

“Ah, but you’re both here under a worker’s visa. We approved your journey here and the term of which you could stay.”

 

Their tea was delivered and the wine was poured to all four of them after Mark tasted it to prove satisfaction. “Delicious. I believe it reminds me of Pike’s Market, doesn’t it?”

 

“To a legendary degree.” Was John’s only statement. He was simply evaluating them both.

 

“Am I to understand that you’re threatening to cancel our worker’s visa if Sara doesn’t tell you the details of how her series of stories end?” Nova repeated. She was surprised that he had been relatively straight forward in the demand but they had remained out of the picture for this long. The differences might have made the work less alarming…..initially but then, some of the similarities likely had caused alarm. And didn’t they make adjustments to how it was originally portrayed in Sara’s universe? But those similarities….something had caused this man, Mycroft or Mark Gatiss to emerge from the shadows. They were on the rhetorical thin ice.

 

Mark gave an elegant shrug. “A range of possibilities have yet to be considered. But we’re here to speak civilly. None of us should have to entertain the notion of threats. I think instead we should have a toast.” He raised his glass. “Let’s say to the start of a beneficial new relationship.”

 

“To our relationship.” John echoed as he stared at Sara. In that moment, she felt sick. How could she play along with this pretense if they essentially knew the cards she holding. She needed a moment to gather herself.

 

“I need a minute.” She said, getting up from stooped seats, which was a task in itself. “Just to use the restroom.” Who knew how long she would linger there? She saw Nova move to follow her but in that time, John’s movements were quick. He seized her wrist before she step one foot away from the table. She looked at him, aghast.

 

“It’s impolite to leave the table before completing the toast.” He said. Etiquette. He was lecturing her on etiquette. Treating them like….

 

“You know what’s also impolite?” Sara seethed, taking the glass of wine off the table. “Harassment. Stalking. Assault.” Without a moment’s pause, she threw the contents of the wine glass into his face. He gasped, momentarily startled by this one impetuous act. The glass itself slipped from her grip falling onto the hard wooden table where it splintered, two shards cutting directly into Sara’s hand. Blood was seeping from the wound. Nova acted quickly, pulling out the two little shards, wrapping Sara’s hand in a cloth napkin, hoping they didn’t notice the color of Sara’s blood. She pulled her friend in the direction of the restroom hoping the distraction would buy her time. Any time at all.

 

“Incisions that deep would require stitches.” John was just behind them. “I do have medical training.”

 

“We’ll take care of this at a clinic.” Nova argued. “I think our lunch will have to be rescheduled until-“

 

But he had suddenly circumvented her, taking hold of Sara’s wrist, pulling the napkin away as she protested. It was then he raised his eyebrows. Amidst the dried blood, her hand had completely healed, on it’s own.

 

“Interesting.” He mused.

 

Nova swallowed. She knew they had psychic training. She could only grasp certain surface thoughts but the way the two protected their memories….it would take her several minutes if not more to navigate through a virtual maze where he had now since nested the memory about Sara’s blood….and the conclusions he was drawing about Nova’s in the interim. _Forgetting…it takes more discernment. But a surface command…._ they may have had significant psychic training but if she caught him at the right moment….

 

“I’m sorry. We do really need to leave.” She told him, gripping his arm. “ _Sleep.”_

 

And while, his training inhibited some of the command, it seemed sufficient to get him to relinquish control of Sara’s arm and fall to his knees.

 

The two walked out, napkin in hand. They barely heard Mark or Mycroft call out his John’s name before they ventured into the next taxi.

 

Sara was shuddering. “We can’t just run.” While that being her first inclination. It was impractical. It would admit guilt or culpability and though one had seen her blood, they didn’t have it in their possession so they had no evidence.

 

“No, we can’t run.”

 

“We do the next best thing.” Sara answered. “Go to the place they least expect us to be.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Work. I think we need the media on this. We already have dedicated websites. We release a viral feed giving limited information on what happened. Enough, so they would have to contend with the media too.”

 

“And the Doctor? Sara, if the Doctor comes for us….” Nova took a deep breath. “It will be worse.”

 

“I know.” Sara shook her head. “Then, God help us all.”

 

When they arrived home – Nova had been half expecting a squad of goons to be there to take them into custody – the mathematician left no time to waste. She immediately went into the laptop. It took her half an hour to create a simple information-virus that would loop the general details of what occurred, automatically checking for its presence and then uploading the information again if not.

 

She used some digits of pi and e as the passcode, backdoor, and security. She knew that pi was one of the code Sherlock used most-often and was counting on it being something he wouldn’t think that she would use.

 

Once the virus was written, she uploaded it into the basecode of each of their dedicated websites, Facebook pages (though that took the longest since she had to get around their malware security), Twitter accounts, the publishing house general pages, as well as the studio’s general pages. Even a few websites dedicated to ‘policing’ big-businessmen and such.

 

In all honesty, it wasn’t much. But she had put it everywhere she could think of that would be seen by the part of the public that cared about such things. Two hours after the meeting, she finally sat back in the office chair. “Okay. That’s about all I can do on this front.”

 

Sara nodded. “Good. We’ll see how it goes then. The court of public opinion is bigger than most give credit.”

 

Nova didn’t voice her concern that the Holmes’ were so big and had fingers in so many pies that it wouldn’t matter. She knew that it was a worst-case scenario. But as a mathematician she couldn’t help thinking such ways. Thinking the worst to be able to plan. In this case, however, she just didn’t know what they could do. “They left us alone for so long…why now?”

 

“Curiosity.” Sara sighed. “Opportunity. The publishing house had been getting a few offers for television for about a month or two when this studio swooped in to nab the deal.”

 

“Ah.” Nova nodded her understanding. “Which means that if we had just said ‘no’ and refused any televised anything's, stayed on our bit of continent—“

 

“No. The contract we signed gives us a lot of authority, but if a good enough deal comes up the publishing house has an army of lawyers to circumvent it. They’d have gotten us to say ‘yes’ eventually. This would have happened sooner or later.” The brunette settled onto the couch. “So what was it about them that you found out?”

 

Nova began to explain her observations and deductions on the brothers. Gesturing with her hands as she began to become more animated in her musings, as was her nature when she got truly immersed in a topic. When she began to wind down again, both falling silent as they absorbed the information.

 

Sara finally broke the silence. “If you are right, we can use that to our advantage. If we give them what they want – namely eliminating the mystery behind our knowledge – then they should lose interest and leave us alone.”

 

“I think they already know that we basically ‘landed’ here years ago.” Nova mused. “Tracking down when and where I made our identities would have been easy for them. Comparing it to known facial-recognition database to find out who we were before that and coming up empty, along with their experience with the Doctor, gives them a good idea of what occurred.”

 

She frowned. “If that’s true, then why are they still curious?”

 

“I think because they only have guesses. No confirmation from us. It’s just speculation on their part. They want to know if they are right. We don’t pose a threat to them. Physically or politically. Not really.” Nova shook her head slightly. “Sara…honestly, I’m not that worried about them. They could make life difficult for us, of course they could, but currently the only reason for them to do so is curiosity. I suggest we eliminate that curiosity and they should leave us be.”

 

“What are you worried about then?” Sara asked softly, though she knew the answer.

 

“If I’m right…then if we don’t eliminate their curiosity and make them forget we are even a concern, as soon as the Doctor shows back up Sherlock will contact him. Explain how much of a mystery we are. The brothers will broker some kind of deal of equal information sharing, and then give him our address and all the information they have so far on us.

 

“Our research says that Atmos has happened but not the stealing of Earth. We are before the TLV appears, but if we aren’t careful we’ll have to deal with him.” Nova took a deep breath. “You would be relatively safe from him, I think, given that this dimensions Holmes are different enough from what you know as to be easily dismissed. But Sara…I’m the textbook definition of a time sensitive. We’ve discussed this. You know what it means.”

 

Sara nodded, but Nova wasn’t finished. “And something is happening to me as well.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I dreamed about a Doctor last night that I’ve never seen before. Well, I’ve seen him, but not _that_ one. It was an alternate than the one I usually dream about. Along with a companion that I’m not familiar with. One that’s time sensitive like me. I think it was a warning of what may occur if he finds me. But also…it may be that my dreaming ability is expanding. I don’t know why…” she shrugged helplessly.

 

Sara felt a cold chill creep across her. “Combined with my new healing ability…”

 

“Yeah. My vote is to get the Holmes’ to forget about us. So we don’t have to worry about the Doctor.”

 

“I don’t know on a practical scale how they will forget about us, Nova.” Sara said. “Given that they know we came from another dimension but only contended with information that was inaccurate to a point….” She shook her head. “Something triggered them to give us a closer watch. And they saw my blood. You thought to grab it and we don’t visit doctors but….you demonstrated telepathic ability.” She took a deep breath. “The viral campaign will buy us time, I think.” She looked at the computer. Already, thanks to Nova’s virus, there was a reaction but it also delivered consequences. Video footage was delivered when the press confronted the men regarding the accusations.

 

“ _Given the reaction and the increased threat to public safety, we are taking all due precautions to ensure the authors Sara Thomas and Nova Morganstern do not come to any undue harm. We are declaring them persons of intern and under protection of the British Government until such time when this matter has been resolved.”_

 

Sara looked at the screen critically. “He considered that we would do this.” Her voice was matter of fact. “Our passports have been suspended. We can’t leave the country.”

 

“Of course he did.” Nova shook her head. No wonder he didn’t send any goons. He didn’t have to and thanks to them, now they were people of notoriety. The viral campaign was an artifact they simply used against them. “Occam’s Razor.” She repeated in her continued mantra. “The simplest solution. Using the public in turn to keep watch as well.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Sara muttered regretfully. “I thought he wouldn’t expect this. I did this study on Wikileaks and the use of viral marketing or using information as a source of defense but….” If she had to admit it, it didn’t end very well for some of those sources or the Wikileaks founder, Julian Assange. From what she remembered, he was still stuck in an Equadorian Embassy due to some tenuous charges brought against him. “But there’s been cases where viral campaigning or the court of public opinion has been successful and…”

 

“It wasn’t a terrible idea…” Nova started.

 

“But not a good one.”

 

“Considering the realm of choices we had ranked from bad to abysmal, on that scale, it was our better option.” Nova reasoned. Now they had to deal with the ramifications. They had been essentially confined inside a box and their choice given the level of CCTV cameras in the UK was to see if they could make their way out of the box. But that meant, the brothers would essentially be watching them run around like a bunch of lab mice. She remembered how in the story, The Hound of Baskervilles, John was observed running around a lab room as Sherlock monitored the situation. Now she pondered whether ‘John’ actually existed or was he just representative of the people they facilitated or did business with.

 

“Forgetting.” Sara suddenly spoke.

 

“Sorry?” Nova asked, interrupted from her train of thought.

 

“I just thought of something. I mean, I guess. The stories weren’t an issue. Not really, because the plots were singular. I mean, obviously they didn’t go to a Baskerville Military Base or meet with a dominatrix who tried to blackmail them.”

 

“So I would hope.” Nova replied. “Then, what are you thinking?”

 

“It’s what wasn’t there…” Sara started. “Before….for the two of them to maintain control and affect the memory on a mass scale since the Atmos incident. To corrupt it on that scale. She looked at the faucet and remembered how they discussed the hallucinogen being transmitted by dissolving water with sugar cane. How Sherlock was so certain that the water supply delivered the hallucinogen because the water and sugar came from the same processing plant. “It’s their own ArchAngel network. Like what the Master used. Maybe nanites.” She remembered Nova describing them.

“You think we can test for it?”

“Maybe. Another question. Why isn’t it working on us?” Nova asked.

 

“You’re time sensitive.” Sara told her. “And I’m….I don’t know what I am. But if the public fears a contaminant in the water…” Ugh, it was radical conspiracy theory for her considering there were people trying to convince the public that fluoride was the way of the government to cause mind control in her dimension. But what if that was really the case? Considering the reality they were in and their confrontation, not to mention their abilities, she couldn’t dismiss it.

 

“I think if they are to forget, you are likely our best bet.” Sara said. “Maybe I can help. But I think we both need to practice more than we have been doing.”

 

“My version of forgetting was them losing interest.” Nova countered softly. “For them to _actually_ forget? Manipulate their memories?” She shivered at the very idea. “Sara…please don’t make me do that.” Her whispered plea was heartfelt.

 

To Nova, who had been at least partially telepathic her entire life, she knew the intricate dance memories played on an individual’s personality. To her viewpoint, changing a memory would be to change the person. Essentially killing the person they are, creating a new person in their place. Doing such an act against a person’s free will was tantamount to rape on top of murder.

 

Gallifreyan law had something very similar to what Sara was suggesting. It was used only when no other option was available. It was called the Final Sanction and was, in essence, the death penalty. Their body was alive, but they were no longer the same and never again would be. Though it could be used for mentally ill patients, that was an unusual case.

 

Nova held her middle tightly, trying to comfort herself, rocking back and forth slightly. “Please don’t make me,” she begged quietly. A tear silently ran down her cheek. “Please don’t make me.” She would rather be a virtual prisoner, trapped in her own apartment, than kill in cold blood. If she had no other choice, she would re-think things…but not if she had another choice. _Any_ other choice.

 

Sara shrugged helplessly. Maybe she was being hypocritical with what the Doctor did or was going to do to Donna. She hated that episode, was critical of it but told Nova about the events according to the television show she saw regardless. With some pieces of the timeline missing, she had to fill in the blank. She only wondered whether Nova gained more clarity of those events once she dreamt about them. After all, dream time was longer than real time. One could dream several lifetimes in the space of a night. Sara so often dreamed about being back home, getting married and having children. Watching them grow up. All those might have beens. But how could she marry now knowing her peculiarities? Having children might not even be possible. Nova spoke of the curse of Time Lord sterility and how they essentially loomed or used genetic material to clone their children. Even when some of the Time Lords were able to reproduce naturally, it was considered illegal for them to do so.

 

“And Time Lords and humans generally can’t reproduce.” Nova explained. It filled them with sadness. If that was the case, then they were truly alone for whatever time they had on this earth.

 

Sara was just frustrated. She didn’t like feeling trapped in this manner. It was likely why she backlashed against….she groaned internally. What to call him? John Altamont? Sherlock? Still at the moment seeing the wine drip down his face, it had been satisfying. _Momentary pleasure. Long-term repercussions._ Although, she didn’t know she could really swallow that toast down.

 

“So we don’t alter their memories and maybe it would be a give away to the Doctor if we did.” Sara swallowed. The one other thing she wouldn’t relish was the consequences meted out by a Time Lord considering their justice system could be undeniably harsh. She also wouldn’t want to have her memories altered. Didn’t like what the two were doing but was acting the same way in a gutter fight the real way to accomplish their aims?

 

“Okay, no memory alterations.” Sara said finally and Nova let out an exhale. “But it may call for something else considering we are under public scrutiny.”

 

“Which is?” Nova asked, partially afraid of what next her friend might come up with.

 

“Transparency.” Sara said. “We talk to the press. We go on talk shows. We act as though we have nothing to hide but to ensure it…” She paused. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. We announce we’re giving John Altamont the main role to demonstrate our transparency. Perhaps give him a guest role in Doctor Who as a way of crossover and congeniality.”

 

“They might have anticipated this.” Nova said flatly. “And should he refuse?”

 

“It would serve to discredit him as we had his screen test recorded.” Sara told her. “Either way, it could be an advantage. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

 

Nova’s eyes widened. “Considering that these men are likely running the earth in the Doctor’s absence…” She shook her head remembering their stray thoughts. The feelings she managed to ascertain from them. “We can’t make another mistake if we intend to proceed with this.”

 

“I know.” Sara muttered, closing her eyes while massaging her temples.

 

“Will you be able to keep your calm?” Nova tried again, drumming up Sara’s weak point.

 

“I’ll try.” Sara said. “I hope so.” She knew she had to or the mess they found themselves in would be even bigger. “What about you? This plan? Is it workable?” She knew she was asking Nova to effectively pretend, to act. This media performance was something that Sara personally loathed but she had to deal with people and the public. Two concepts that weren’t always rational regardless of the individuals that comprised them.

 

“We can try.” Nova hoped her smile was positive and encouraging. She knew it would probably work on many different businesses and people…but she didn’t know about the Holmes’ brothers.

 

She idly wondered if these versions of them were in fact brothers. Mark/Mycroft had made an insinuation to the fact, but only one. They had similar features, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. There were only approximately 8000 different facial bone structures and hair color/style combinations per skin tone.  It could be a complete coincidence. Pure curiosity, she supposed. Though it _could_ make a difference if the girls had to try to use a familial relation to manipulate the brothers. She doubted such a scenario would work at all – and would more than likely get them into even more trouble than before. “We can’t fight them physically. Our best chance is to use the public. Let’s do it.”

 

So it was less than twenty-four hours later that the two girls found themselves in a BBC-1 studio, ready for an interview. Both had no doubt that the brothers were aware of everything. Getting out of their apartment had been interesting. Looky-loos, snobs, and all sorts stared at them and jeered.

 

It was also going to be a live interview, so both had to be very careful of their words.

 

Tracy Davis was doing the interview. She was a very polite mid-forties lady even off camera, which was nice. She was also incredibly supportive of their plight and given them tips on how to sound during the interview itself to invoke the maximum amount of sympathy from viewers. “Now remember that the producers will probably get one of the gentlemen on the phone to give an answering statement. Keep calm. Don’t rise to any bait they may throw. And here…” she handed each girl a paperclip, “…if you get nervous, reach into your pocket and fidget with this paperclip. It will focus your energy so that you don’t appear outwardly awkward. Okay?” she smiled encouragingly at both girls.

 

“Okay. Thanks, Tracy.” Sara replied with a half-smile.

 

“Only doing my job, dearies. Helping you look good on camera.” She gave them a saucy wink. “And if you flub your words, just apologize and say that you are nervous. It will make you appear more human and approachable.”

 

“Just another couple of average girls.”

 

“Exactly!” Tracy nodded firmly, her smile still large in her enthusiasm. She looked behind her off-set and called out. “Can I get Makeup over here for a touch-up, please?” In answer, another young twenty-something scuttled up and spent a few minutes on each to ‘fix’ whatever had accidently been brushed away.

 

“Everybody ready?” a male voice yelled out from somewhere unseen. “We’re live in five, four, three” he stopped counting aloud and held up fingers, only to start putting them down again. When he reached no fingers he pointed at Tracy.

 

Tracy gave a big grin at the nearest camera. “Hello and good evening! I’m Tracy Davis for BBC-One, here with international best-selling authors of _The Doctor Chronicles_ and _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,_ Sara Thomas and Nova Morganson, on the subject of their recent problem with an investor.” She looked over at the two girls who were seated side-by-side on a couch next to Tracy’s swivel-seat. “So ladies, in your own words, what’s been going on?”

 

Sara gestured with her hands a little, “Well Tracy, it’s really kind of bizarre. We’ve been able to write full-time now for the last few years because of how everyone has been liking the books.”

 

Nova nodded agreement and tried to ignore the cameras as she answered. “We were approached for a screenplay deal and we're so glad that we were able to interest a company here in Britain, because that’s where our books are mostly set anyway.”

 

The girls had coached each other on how they were going to respond to the questions. Every question they could think of that may be asked, they had come up with a re-response, instead of having to think on-the-spot. Sara continued the explanation. “But since we’re still writing the books, and have many bits and pieces interconnected for upcoming novels, we wanted more control than average in how the screenplays were to be written, along with picking the actors and such.”

 

“To be sure that all the details would be accurate,” Tracy nodded her understanding.

 

“Right. As well as explaining to the actor beforehand on small stuff so that they could portray things to the audience. Things that haven’t been released yet.” Nova gestured. “We’ve been in casting calls for the past week.”

 

“Which is where the trouble started.” Tracy interjected. A statement rather than a question.

 

It was Sara’s turn to nod. “Yes. I didn’t know it at the time, but one of our main investors in the production came in to audition for the part of Sherlock. He was quite good and when I told him that I wanted him to come in for another reading, he invited me to dinner.”

 

“Oh wow. Must have been some impression!” Tracy exclaimed.

 

“That’s what I thought. I tried to let him down gently, because it’s just bad-form to be seen like I’m playing favorites with the potential actors at this point.”

 

“Isn’t picking an actor in of itself playing favorites?” Tracy asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Well, yes. But taking one out to lunch, before we’ve even settled on a certain candidate would be cruel.” Sara gestured. “It may give the impression that we would pick that actor, even though it hasn’t been decided yet.”

 

Tracy translated for the slower viewers. “You didn’t want to give him false hope.”

 

“Exactly.” Sara nodded again.

 

“But the next day, before breakfast, he came to our apartment—“

 

Tracy cut off Nova in the middle with a surprised expression and loud exclamation, “He came to your apartment?!”

 

Both girls nodded. “He did. Along with my co-screenplay writer Stephen Moffat. _That_ was when we learned that John Altamont wasn’t just a potential actor, but one of our main investors.” Nova gestured here plaintively. “He was insistent taking us to lunch.”

 

“You didn’t want to.” Tracy observed.

 

“No. I mean, would you want to? A strange man shows up at your flat before you’re even out of your pajamas to ask you to lunch, when you had already turned him down?” Sara questioned, turning it around so that more of the audience could (hopefully) understand how creepy it sounded. “If he really did want the part of Sherlock, we still didn’t want to be seen as playing favorites.”

 

“But then he insinuated that he’d pull funding if we didn’t.”

 

“Really?” Tracy exclaimed in disbelief.

 

They nodded again. “So we threatened to just pull the plug ourselves. I mean, if they are just going to make us do things we don’t want to do anyway no matter what we say, what would be the point?”

 

“You didn’t want to be manipulated.”

 

More nods. “He insisted that it was just business and gave his word. That he, and the other main investor in the production, wanted to meet us face-to-face and it was all strictly professional.”

 

“So, we give in – because we really do want to make the series here instead of in the States, since the books are set here – and meet the next day with him and Mark Gatiss.”

 

“Which is where it got even more bizarre.” Tracy announced, keeping up a dialogue between them.

 

“Uh-huh. In the beginning they were both perfect gentlemen. Interested in how things were going with the differences in writing screenplays versus novels. We shared how we’ve got the first few done. Some of the difficulties in how we are trying to portray certain details so that things stay true to the books.”

 

“But then Altamont brought up his casting again. We assured him that while his was the best, we still didn’t want to be seen as playing favorites.”

 

“Otherwise, people could say that he bought the role.”

 

“He kept pressing the issue. So,” Sara gave a sheepish, blushing smile. “I threw a glass of wine in his face.”

 

“Oh my!” Tracy said, covering her mouth with a hand, but the camera was able to see a small amused smile of her own.

 

“Not one of my finest moments.”

 

“We figured we’d explain what happened to the public, before the story warped into some weird version that sometimes happens.”

 

“Like a game a Telephone. Going from one person to the next changes the story until you hardly recognize it from the truth.”

 

“Then the next thing we know, we’re being told there’s an investigation and our passports are revoked. We’re practically on house-arrest. All we were trying to do was be professional…then this happens.”

 

“Which must have been very distressing.” Tracy sympathized. “Although, Mark Gatiss gave a statement due to the rise of protesters in response to your public appeal that it is only temporary and for your protection.” She paused. “You have seen quite a few mob scenes on your way to the station.”

 

“We have indeed.” Sara told her seriously. “And we fully understand the repercussions of our attempt to make the public aware of the issue. Although it is said there is no such thing as bad publicity, we for one, would like to carry ourselves with the highest moral integrity.”

 

“And perhaps we didn’t value the position John Altamont and Mark Gatiss have as investors to the show.” Nova agreed. “Our first impression was done in a less than favorable circumstance and I believe many misunderstandings were made. All we want is to bring the best quality show we can offer from our stories to the public viewers.”

 

“Yes.” Sara nodded. “Much of my casting was done for Sherlock aside from the lead.” She paused. “However, to show we bear no ill will for our disastrous lunch meeting and being that John Altamont has delivered the best screen test so far, we are now in our official capacity with our contracts offering him the role of Sherlock with Daniel Gillies to play John Watson.”

 

The audience gave a gasp and there were an assortment of whispers. Tracy hesitated for a moment. “You’re not concerned that he is buying the role?”

 

Sara gave her a smile. “I will offer complete and utter transparency to the British public including all screen tests for every audition that took place. I personally read with him and my screenwriter and casting director assessed the test. Though, I would have liked to have him read with Daniel Gillies, that was likely merely a formality. But please be assured he wouldn’t have received the part if he wasn’t the best candidate.”

 

“And these screen tests are all available on your website?” Tracy confirmed.

 

“Each and every one.” Nova said. “I would also like to offer him a recurring guest role in my show when his schedule permits.”

 

“And what role would that be?” Tracy asked.

 

“Well, that would be a bit of spoilers, isn’t it?” Nova teased.

 

“Any questions from the audience?” Tracy started.

 

It was a woman towards the back. “So this bit about hiring your very own stalker to join the show, that doesn’t make you nervous?”

 

“Stalker was an exaggeration and mostly on my part.” Sara said. “We only just met and since we have been working so hard, we were unaccustomed to their approach. I do admit freely that when John Altamont asked me to dinner, I was surprised and nervous about the invitation. I did walk out without an answer and went home without firmly telling him ‘no’.”

 

“And we’re not precisely morning people.” Nova gave a chuckle while everyone laughed.

 

“Oh and I do have a caller.” Tracy paused. “It seems to be John Altamont himself. What do you think everyone? Will he take the offer or turn down the role?”

 

The room was split. Some thought rising above their circumstances was a brave thing to do but a few others did grumble about the investors buying the role. Sara and Nova did expect that. Regardless, now they were throwing the ball into their court.

 

“Mr. Altamont, hello and thank you for calling in. Such an exciting turn of events as I hoped you heard Miss Thomas and Miss Morganson’s offer?”

 

“Indeed. I was pleased and gratified by their explanations, which I concur would explain the misfortunate turn of events. It would seem we made errors on both sides so to this, I would like to extend an apology for any offense committed by myself and Mark Gatiss within the last two days.” He paused. “I would be honored to accept the roles if that is what these esteemed authors have chosen.”

 

“Then we are pleased you accept and can put this unfortunate incident behind us.” Sara said. Both knew, it would take more than a talk show to accomplish that task but still, the first stage of their plan was complete.

 

“Then it is quite auspicious I have decided to come in person.” The voice was no longer over speaker as John Altamont strolled out already dressed as the proscribed character from their books. “So, that I might formally reconcile in person.”

 

He immediately walked over to shake hands with each while waving to the audience.

 

“Mr. Altamont, have you quite recovered from yesterday’s argument?” Tracy asked. “I imagine having wine thrown into your face was quite a shock.”

 

“To a degree but Miss Thomas does have an edge in recovering faster than I do.” John said simply, the implications he made to Sara quite plain.

 

There were more questions before the shoot ended. John Altamont offered to drive them home but they insisted on using their own transport.

 

For a time, they were silent. “It went no better or worse than expected.” Sara told Nova.

 

“I suppose not.” Nova felt drained. The camera session exhausted her. “Let’s just go to a pub tonight, then go home. Too tired to make dinner and-“

 

Suddenly a car slammed into theirs, crunching it partially against the wall. Sara was pinned on the opposite side, with the fused metal but the door next to Nova was ripped away. Men dressed in black seized her.

 

“Nova!” Sara screamed, starting to struggle. A quick exchange in another language but it did sound as though they were asking whether to take her too?

 

“No, all we need is one.” A man decided.

 

“Nova! Stop! Don’t…”

 

But they dragged her friend out of the car and before Nova could scream, a gloved hand wrapped around her mouth as a needle went into her neck. She started to collapse. They were carrying her away.

 

And all this while, Sara couldn’t move. She tried to cry out for the driver but then she looked. Pieces of metal ripped through his abdomen and chest. He was dead. The driver was dead. Surely she should have…..she gasped….energy tingling. No. Her body was self-mending but she still couldn’t move. Couldn’t reach him.

 

“Are you alright?” It was John’s voice filtering into the car.

 

“I….they took Nova.” Sara could only imagine to say. “The seatbelt…I can’t…”

 

John whipped out a tool belt, removed a razor and cut the restraint away, helped her from the car, catching her arm as she wobbled on her feet. “Night like this… Where could they have gone?”

 

 _Night…_ ”Wait, it’s November the 4th.” Sara told him.

 

“Yes, it is.” John replied in consternation.

 

“St. James Park.” Sara said, without a trace of doubt. She remembered how the needle went into Nova’s neck. It had similar elements to the story. The one she had yet to write. “They’re putting her in the Bonfire. To burn her alive.”

 

Immediately he seized her arm, dragging her to the street where she simply watched, dumbfounded as a motorcycle started to approach. It didn’t merely stop as it did on the show. But John was rapid. The vehicle wasn’t going at speed. He quickly pulled the driver off the vehicle by his arm, sending him to the pavement before getting on the motorcycle himself, pulling Sara on it behind him.

 

“Wait….” She started. “Can’t we use a car? I don’t like-“

 

But her words were drowned out as they headed to the park and seeing it was like a macabre setting of that very episode. Already the fire was lit. Flames arching high against the sky. Sara ran forward, along with John but she scrabbled deeply inside pulling Nova’s unconscious form from beneath the pyre of flames, heedless of the burns she was receiving in the process. They would heal quickly anyway. “Nova?” She asked, trying to shake her gently. “Nova!”

 

“She’s not breathing.” John assessed. His eyes on Sara.

 

“Get us some air!” She pleaded as she pretended to start CPR. Instead, she channeled a focus burst of healing energy that would deliver healing to Nova. Against the flames, she hoped the people would never notice. But some were watching. A video being recorded. Nova’s eyes fluttered opened. “What am I doing here?” She asked in confusion and Sara hugged her.

 

“Pretending to play the part of Guy Fawkes.”

 

“The young lady has recovered and there is nothing more to see.” John said. “If you visit the concession stand, you will find complimentary drinks are your disposal.”

 

“I want to go home.” Nova whispered.

 

“We will.” Sara assured her. “We…”

 

“Without ensuring medical treatment after a traumatic accident and severe smoke inhalation?” John said smoothly. “I have called my own doctor to meet at my townhouse where I assure you will both be quite safe until the morning. Once you have recovered, you may return home.”

 

“We don’t want…”

 

“This is a matter of safety. I do not think it is advisable for either of you to return home at this moment.” He paused. “Once the doctor has tested and cleared you, then your departure can be arranged.”

 

He walked away, nodding to medics arriving on scene. “Please assist them to my car.”

 

And as they were half carried and half dragged to the vehicle, Nova looked at Sara in panic. “The doctor will want to see our blood to check our levels. We can’t…”

 

“I know.” Sara said quietly, leaning over to whisper into Nova’s ear. “Since you burned your hand, I managed to get my hands on some type O positive blood from the hospital. Blood donor bag. They take our blood, we just switch out the sample. You think we can manage it?”

 

Nova swallowed dryly. “It’s worth a try.” She said. “It’s better than nothing.”

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**Chapter 04**

 

The ‘townhouse’ as he called it was in fact more along the lines of a manor. Complete with multiple stories, a beautiful turret section, wrought iron fence surrounding the 2+ acre property, and guard detail. “Wow…” Nova breathed out in appreciation, “It’s like a fairy-tale house.”

 

John/Sherlock gave a mild, quiet snort. A quirk of an eyebrow in her direction. She could practically hear him re-evaluate her maturity level. To her surprise, he didn’t say anything derisive. Just a simple, even, “Thank you.” Her evaluation of Sherlock Holmes would have included something tart and caustic as a reply.

 

As the guards – two by the gate and two patrolling the grounds that she could see – let them onto the property, John continued speaking. “I called my brother before we left. He should be meeting us, along with our private physician.”

 

“I really do feel fine.” Nova tried again, but even she could hear how small her voice sounded.

 

He inclined his head slightly. “As my future employer, I am concerned for your wellbeing. I would feel much better if I could have the assurance of a professional.” The way he spoke…it was almost as if he was tailoring his words, tone, and body language to incite what he wanted, catering to whom he was speaking and the situation.

 

 _Though, that does fit with what I know of Sherlock Holmes. Both brothers’ really… It’s just another form of manipulation._ Nova thought. His verbal repose had countered their objections so nicely that if they now continued, it would appear that they didn’t care for his state of mind or well being. She sighed at that fact, nodding her own acquiescence. There was nothing else for it at this point. He’d painted them neatly into a corner.

 

However, she was going to try to insist upon something else, when she saw the doctor. Hopefully avoiding the blood issue completely.

 

When they entered the elegant foyer, a butler came up to take their coats, umbrellas (for it was Britain and they had learned long ago to always carry such a useful item), and tried to take their bags but both girls refused. Nova with a small smile, trying to be nice about it even as she gazed around the beautiful abode with appreciation.

 

It had elements of Victorian, Elizabethan, and Gothic parts. But it was still a harmonious assortment, blending neatly in such a way that the beginning of one could not be picked out with the end of the other. “Wow…” she breathed again, “…and I thought the outside was pretty.”

 

A precisely male chuckle came from their left, making them turn in surprise. Mark Gatiss was standing with another male in an tailored coat. She would have said it was a standard white doctor’s coat except that it was distinctly bespoke, had the name _Dr. M Freeman_ stitched elegantly on the breast pocket, and a nice shade of light blue that brought out the man’s eyes. It was the doctor whom had laughed. “I thought the same when I was first brought here.” He came forward, holding out his hand in greeting. “Hello. Michael Freeman.”

 

“Nova Morganson,” she answered by habit, shaking his hand in turn.

 

“Ah, then you’re my patient. Right this way please.” His touch was professional, but gentle as he guided her to the side room, which turned out to be a parlor. He had already set up several pieces of equipment beside an old-style fainting couch. She didn’t know how not to, so she sat down. He was very nice and had a wonderful bedside manner. She had a feeling that this doctor was the dimension’s version of John Watson.

 

She recognized most from her step-mother’s general practice clinic, but not all of it. There was a blood-pressure cuff. Ear looky thing. Eye looky thing. Heart listeny thing. As well as a horrible blood takey thing. “Please…I hate needles.” Her voice was quiet, trying to sound vulnerable to provoke a – hopefully – protective reaction.

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her, but sat a moment in thought. As he pondered her request, he went through the motions of getting a baseline for the girl. Checking her pressure, temperature, pupil dilation, hearing, and various other little things that would create a whole picture of exactly how she was doing. The biggest at the moment was listening to her heart and lungs, given that he was told she had fallen into a bonfire. “I’d like to do a blood-gas and toxicology panel. It will give me a good idea of anything I may have missed.” He tried to persuade her.

 

As any good doctor, he cared deeply about his patients. Even one he was being paid by someone else to treat. However, he was also intelligent enough that he had managed to get into the private sector as well, which paid much better. Though he did volunteer at a free clinic close to his flat most days, when he wasn’t taking care of his main patients, he knew how the real world worked. The money he received for his private care went into his research. His research was how he had come to the attention of Mark Gatiss and John Altamont, brothers in all but blood.

 

Michael had found a cure for stage 1 Alzheimer’s after years of painstaking research. However, at the moment it was still way too expensive and time-consuming to mass-produce. He had been able to cure a grand total of ten people so far. It just took so long to make the cure, and he couldn’t make it in large batches either. Yet. The money he received from Gatiss and Altamont had been able to fund the last two years of his research easily, with enough to spare for simple things like food, utilities, and rent. It was the bargain he’d gladly made for being at the pair’s beck-and-call.

 

And yet…little Miss Morganson was also now a patient. So, he felt obligated to offer, “There is a blood-ox sat monitor,” she perked up a bit and he instantly knew that she had known of such a machine’s existence beforehand. So, he felt no guilt as he continued, “but it won’t tell me your CO levels, which is the most concerning part right now.”

 

Nova crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. “As carbon monoxide can be expelled via the lungs easily, as long as sufficient oxygen saturation is met, then I see no problem with the easy, non-needle method.”

 

He had to be sure not to smile at her decidedly childish tone and posture. She might as well have been a seven-year-old saying an immunization shot wasn’t necessary because they felt fine. “Alright Miss Morganson, I will concede the point. However,” he said seriously, “if you feel even the least short of breath or out-of-sorts, I want you to call me immediately. Alright? I live only a couple blocks away and can be at here in a trice.”

 

“Doctor?” Mark’s voice cut in with a practiced air of trying to get someone to do what they wanted by making it seem the other person’s idea. “What if there were toxic fumes let out by the fire? Other than carbon monoxide? According to my brother, there were other things than wood burning. Sara was in the flames as well when she rescued Nova.”

 

Well practiced in reading behind bullshit, Dr. Freeman raised an eyebrow at the man. Two years in the brothers’ company as their doctor gave him a great deal of practice in discerning when one was lying. Or trying to lie. Michael was also intelligent enough to realize that for some reason, they wanted the girls’ blood for some sort of analysis. He also knew that it was against the law to take such things without the consent of the individual. “If she doesn’t want it…”

 

“I don’t!” she rapidly shook her head.

 

“…then you know I can’t. The blood-ox will do for now. But keep a close eye on both girls, just in case.” He dismissed the rest of the conversation, though he knew that Mark and John would most likely try another tactic soon. It was time for focus on his other patient. “Alright Ms. Thomas. Your turn.” As he hadn’t used any needles, he didn’t expect a big protest.

 

He did find it interesting that both girls’ blood-ox was a little higher than average, instead of lower as he would have expected. Their pulse was a little high as well, though that was perfectly normal given the circumstances. The rest was well within normal parameters for their age and size.

 

When he was finally done, he gathered together his instruments as he began to give instructions. “Alright. You both seem fine, though probably still running slightly on adrenaline according to your blood pressure and pulse. I want you to eat some red meat tonight for dinner to help with your iron levels, which tend to dip after such events. A nice big salad as well for some other vitamins that will be getting low from all the excitement. Gentlemen, I’m sure I can count on you both to assure they get such a meal?” he raised an eyebrow at the pair, nodding decisively as they tilted their own in acknowledgement of the order. Before he left the room he gave out one last comment, “Oh, and be sure to get a good night’s rest. I would even recommend going to bed early for a couple nights. Let your body do what it does best.”

 

With that last recommendation, he disappeared out the parlor and down the hall. He would, of course, keep his emergency phone on hand just in case. But he doubted he’d be called back soon. At least not for the girls’ falling in a fire. They were tired, frustrated, and shaken, but otherwise fine. All were very normal reactions for such an event. They just needed rest and food.

 

It was time to go back to his research. He still needed to figure out how to refine his method of production to decrease time, or increase output.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

It still was a matter of some argument when Dr. Freeman had left. Of course, Sara had recognized the resemblance and given the same last name as her dimension’s actor, it gave her some clarification on the role of his association with the two men. But there was no moment to mention it whilst he was in the room to Nova discreetly. Although, Nova had raised her eyebrows to her in the form of a question to which Sara gave a slight nod. It would have to do until they were alone.

 

And out of this house. Remembering her promise, she tried to repose herself. But it had been a long day and with what Nova had been through, she had been so terrified given the thought of losing her. _But the fire…._ it seemed remarkable timing. Nova being taken. The car crash. The sedatives. Although, in some ways similar to the episode, _The Empty Hearse,_ the actual events were skewed. Sara felt distinctly suspicious of their current two hosts.

 

 _But isn’t that sloppy?_ She asked herself, thinking men as seemingly bright as these two were could likely arrange for a better tactic to obtain something as their blood or DNA. So many questions. Although, still, she had to consider that she was contending with reality and not a story that was being drawn out to a dramatic point to appeal to a viewership. Obviously things were missing. She wasn’t sent a skip code on her mobile. But then, whomever was responsible was likely to have known she wouldn’t need it or didn’t see the reason to play such laborious games.

 

“It appears you both were very lucky to have emerged from that attack unscathed.” Mark gave a slight smile that only slightly betrayed a subtle impatience. Nova swallowed, her throat dry. She recalled waking up in that bonfire to the suffocating darkness and then the horrific heat. The smoke. She couldn’t breathe. She knew if she died here, she wouldn’t regenerate. In terms of Time Lord standards, she was too young to master the skill, which required every aspect of mental control and likely the assistance of a TARDIS. It was also emphasized that she should be over a century to attempt the process. On top of that, she hadn’t seen the untempered schism, which would align her mind to the vortex. Well, she had seen it relatively speaking. Through the Doctor’s eyes. She knew why he had been so scared and how small he felt in the presence of infinity. But those were in dreams. It simply didn’t count.

 

So, in those seconds that stretched on for hours, feeling her life slip away, struggling to breathe, it seemed memories of her life dashed in front of her eyes as well as the ones in her dreams. Her parents, especially her father to whom she was inspired to pursue her academic course but also to delve into her other passions. The moments she spent cross stitching. Family dinners. Being in Salt Lake City. Sara smiling at her when Nova prepared her favorite dessert. The taste of fresh honey. The tears the girls had shed over missing their families. In the final moment before darkness had taken her, she wondered if now, would she be reunited with them in some form of paradise.

 

The next moment, there was Sara. A glowing light. Her tears as her friend sobbed at how close she came to losing Nova. But relief turned into anxiety when John had taken control of the situation to likely ‘the brothers’ own benefit.

 

Nova was far from ignorant. Logic was very dependable. She knew that they wanted both their blood. At least, the portrayal Sara worked to describe in her stories was a fairly accurate one. He was not one to be so corrupted and even with the British socialized government, to which they had to abide by, DNA or blood couldn’t be taken without a patient’s consent. Or next of kin if the patient was incapacitated with a mental or health condition. But two doctors had to evaluate the patient and concede to compel a blood sample. The other option was if they were formally arrested under suspicion for a criminal act.

 

She knew though that Mark/Mycroft wasn’t one to play always by the book. But that was the problem. They were trying to operate and manipulate under the pair. But it was like playing a game of leap frog through a heavy current of traffic.

 

“Yes, very lucky. I am thankful you interceded in time.” Nova told them in response. “Although I am concerned about those who were responsible.” She glanced at John/Sherlock. “They were targeting your car and how regrettable it would be if something happened to you.”

 

“Indeed, fortunate acted in my favor.” John said. “Nonetheless, I appreciate your concern.”

 

Sara nodded. “Yes, thank you. Also, I appreciate your insistence on an exam to give everyone peace of mind.”

 

“Oh, that was definitively our pleasure.” Mark folded his hands together. “We should have dinner ready in the next five minutes. Might we offer you both a cuppa tea while we wait.”

 

“No, thank you.” Sara kept her voice calm. “I don’t think that is necessary and as tempting as dinner sounds, I think we intruded on your hospitality long enough. Since your doctor has cleared us, we-“

 

“Provisionally.” Mark replied, “Given that you complete a two day observation period here to ensure no further complications.”

 

“We….” Sara started, trying to keep her cool. “Protective custody is more specifically used in a prison environment. We did not participate in a criminal act. So, Dr. Freeman can recommend it but we aren’t obliged to stay here.” She sighed. “We would be far more comfortable in our own beds and we will call our staff to keep an eye on us.”

 

“A crime was already committed on your person. It was no mere suggestion but an established directive by Dr. Freeman.” John was walking back and forth. “The PACE act.”

 

“The…” Sara’s voice trailed as Nova seemed to turn pale.

 

“PACE act, section three constitutes that those threatened by an act of terrorism, with the perpetrators at large, protective custody for a minimal duration is required.”

 

Sara’s hands clenched together and she slowly counted to ten. “No.” She said finally.

 

“No.” John Altamont repeated as though amused by the word.

 

“Again, it was your car. It seems more likely that you were the target considering the impact of Nova’s viral campaign. Likely amateurs considering they missed you but all the same.”

 

“I see.” John said flatly. “However if they are after me, they surely would have taken myself instead of Nova.”

 

“She was more accessible.” Sara told him. “I even recall them saying there was a time crunch. They had to limit it to the easiest accessible passenger.”

 

“It is a mere two days and it is better to exercise caution.” John said. “Our butler will….”

 

“We do need to go home.” The brunette turned with Nova to walk to the front door only to find a deadbolt in place, which could only be open by means of a passcode on a security panel. The security system was blinking red to show it was armed. _Damn it!_

 

“It is not safe for you to venture off the premises. There are the press and public at large merely outside the gate.” John paused. “And it is too late to ask our driver to take you both home.”

 

The girls simply stared at the door. One impassable barrier.

 

“Perhaps you will want to change before dinner.” Mark suggested as Sara gritted her teeth in consternation. “Our butler will show you to your rooms.”

 

 _Another sleepless night._ Sara thought wondering if Nova felt the same. The minute they succumbed to slumber, she knew either one of them might be there, needle in hand. So either, they didn’t sleep or they go in shifts.

 

 _Maybe the latter._ Sara thought as she reluctantly followed the butler up to their rooms only to find to some dismay their rooms were located on different wings of the estate. Oh, that wouldn’t be easy. Not at all.

 

Both changed clothes out of the closets, which for convenience purposes had a full supply of female attire. Neither decided to comment on how they were so fully prepared for this seeming crisis. Finally going down to dinner, they sat uneasily at the dining room table as bowls of lobster bisque was put in front of them. Since they both watched the butler ladle the soup from the same silver serving dish, they simply waited until John and Mark had first bite before consuming theirs.

 

“So, I am to be Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” John mused. “Might I know a little more about him in terms of personality?”

 

“You must have read our books.” Nova told him, feeling exhausted too. She wanted this dinner charade to end.

 

“I would like to garner a more introspective analysis from the author.”

 

“Well, it’s hard to know what to tell you.” Sara yawned. “Sherlock is essentially a character that people can invariably love and hate.”

 

“For what reason?”

 

“To be frank, he has a high functioning degree of Asperger’s syndrome, which his parents didn’t understand. He’s ego-centric, however and prefers to call himself a high functioning sociopath in exchange for his actual diagnosis. He considers his brain, his vast computer and organizes his information into a Mind Palace. Likely eidetic memory but often he doesn’t store in his mind too much ‘needless information’. The needless information or whatever he deems unimportant, he deletes.”

 

“What does he deem needless?”

 

“Philosophy, astronomy and some classic literature. That sort of thing.” Sara told him.

 

He looked briefly introspective before turning to the red head. “And what of my role on your show, Nova?”

 

“There are two possibilities. Jack Harkness or the Master. One works with the Doctor, the other is a highly intelligent but insane villain reoccurring in different incarnations.”

 

“I see. A good few options.”

 

“I hope so.” Nova muttered. Her head was starting to swim but she didn’t wish to admit that.  But then Sara looked the same shade of pale.

 

The brunette tried to clear the sensation. It was overwhelming. What was happening? She looked at her meal. _The soup?_ No. They were eating it too.

 

And then she realized. The butler came by offering to add parmesan cheese, ground pepper or salt to the disk. Sara had chosen the cheese while Nova picked the pepper and salt. The bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

 

“You….” Sara stood up from the table. “You did something….the soup or…” She could hardly think straight.

 

“Of course we did.” John said. “You missed a vital test. But don’t worry.” He stood up, walking towards Sara. “Ketamine causes short term amnesia. You will not recall this unpleasant decision we were forced to make.”

 

“But….” Sara suddenly collapsed as John caught her, while at the same time, grabbing Nova’s shoulder to keep her upright, so when she collapsed, she wouldn’t go face first into her bowl of soup.

 

Mark smiled in satisfaction at his two unconscious guests before him. “I believe their sudden incapacitation warrants another call to Dr. Freeman, don’t you?”

 

“My thoughts exactly.” John pronounced. “Let’s first take them up to their rooms.”

 

Now Dr. Freeman would likely have no choice but to perform the blood test. Mark Gatiss was tremendously pleased, now on the phone summoning him back to the manor. _Just the slightest bit of patience._

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Dr. Freeman also had no compunction about, with extreme irritation and volume, half-yelling at the two as he retrieved a blood sample from each girl. “I said a nice meal. Salad and steak. I said two-day rest. What could _possibly_ be hard about those instructions? You know better! You _both_ know better!”

 

Indeed, Michael had treated the two men for various and sundry ailments over the last two years, including – but certainly not limited to – going into a burning building. At that incident, he had given the same instructions along with an emergency oxygen tank at the scratchy sound of their lungs.

 

“So I have to come back, interrupting an important process for my work, barely after I went, because neither of you can follow simple instructions!” He continued to berate the two. They may pay his check, but he was entirely aware of their not-inconsiderable intelligence. “But _no_ …I have to come back to get the blood tests that both of you obviously so covet because either you orchestrated the event in its entirety, which I _am_ starting to wonder about being it’s the two of you, or because you have suddenly become incompetent enough that you can’t see to the care of two females!”

 

He had the samples in his hand. Since he had known where he was going, he had brought along his emergency lab equipment to run the blood-gas and tox panel immediately, just in case. “What _both_ of you have seemingly forgotten is that I _do_ in fact care about my patients!” He was still snarling as he placed a few drops of each vial into the analyzer and pressed ‘start’. It would take about five minutes for the tests to run. Five more minutes to yell at the idiots. So he turned around, crossed his arms angrily to glare at both men.

 

Neither had the decency to even fake remorse, which only set Michael off more, he tried another tactic. “I don’t know what in the world has gotten into you both. I’m disappointed.” That got a raised eyebrow. “I am not as intelligent as the pair of you, but I am certainly not stupid. Evidenced by the way you employ _me_ as your personal physician and not someone else. Neither of you have the capacity to accept second-best. I am well aware that something about these two girls has set you both off, which is amazing given the circumstances. Best friends you may be, but your work is in completely different focuses. And _yes_ , I’ve read their books, well, Ms. Thomas’ anyway…I find them fascinating and amusing in how they dance around the truth without going into outright slander or libel. _However_ , that is _not_ a reason to practically kidnap them and arrange it so that I have no choice but to get something they clearly don’t want me to have!

 

“They are my patients. By your own order. So, I am going to dedicate to them the same care, discretion, and professionalism that I bestow upon the pair of you. Am I making myself clear?” He finished in almost perfect timing for the machine to beep at the trio waiting.

 

“Perfectly, doctor.” Mark said smoothly. “The results please?”

 

While Michael tore off the readout and quickly scanned all the relevant data, he heard John counter one of his points. “We did not, in fact, arrange the crash, kidnapping of Nova, or subsequent almost death of the women, doctor. That doesn’t mean we won’t take advantage of the situation to work in our benefit.” John’s voice paused. “Mark is already working on finding the true perpetrators, along with their purpose. Neither of us…enjoy making them suffer. Dancing political is, as you say, amusing. Actual physical injury is not desirable. Depending on the paper you hold in your hands, they have more political ties than they may be aware. Which is why we were so…intent…upon running a blood analysis.”

 

“As well as a DNA test, please, doctor.” Mark added calmly.

 

When Michael was silent for several long moments, just re-reading the paper over again. The second time with more depth and detail. After two minutes, John couldn’t withhold his impatience much longer. “Is there a problem?”

 

“………I’ll run the DNA analysis myself.” Dr. Freeman said evenly. It was a tone he hadn’t used since his medical rotation, before he had decided to primarily be a medical researcher. When he had perfected how to speak in such a manner as to not give his patients undue stress or anxiety. Given the results he was looking at, it was an automatic, trained response. In another minute, he had the blood samples in his pocket and was on his way out the door. “I’ll be back in about two hours to discuss the results.”

 

“Hold doctor. It’s too dangerous for you to leave the premises with those vials when we still do not know why the girls were targeted.” John interjected. “We will have the necessary equipment brought here instead. Just tell us which pieces you need.”

 

Given what Michael had read, he didn’t protest too much as he quickly wrote down the name and general description of the required machines. “With all speed, Altamont.” His tone wasn’t grim…but it was an order swimming with trying-not-to-be-grim.

 

John and Mark both raised eyebrows in identical expressions of solemn curiosity. It was no wonder that Ms. Thomas had made her interpretation of them into siblings. The resemblance was uncanny at times. As Mark spoke into his phone to give the order, John asked almost-gently, “Anything you can tell us now?”

 

Dr. Freeman put a hand through his hair and gazed sadly down at the brunette. “I’m amazed they’re breathing.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

**Chapter 05**

 

A little over two hours later saw the brothers sitting casually in one of the offices, watching as Dr. Michael Freeman was animatedly pacing back and forth before the fireplace, clearly agitated. They waited for long moments. While both were impatient for the results, Freeman’s reaction to those results made them wary.

 

Mark was wondering which country’s strings he would have to pull, as well as wondering if this was the day he would have to cut Freeman’s string. It would definitely hurt him somewhat to have to kill a man that had become something of a confidant, but that wouldn’t stop him. Mark had the fate of an entire planet in his hands and, since he happened to live on that planet and liked it quite a bit, he took it’s care quite seriously.

 

John was more noticeable in his impatience, but even so he just watched. Michael was more John’s friend than Mark’s. However, both brothers – as they had been calling each other since they were children growing up together in adjacent homes – knew that because they had trusted Michael with so much information made the doctor both incredibly dangerous as well as vulnerable. If anyone important found out how much Dr. Freeman actually knew he would be in great danger. It was why they made such a great show of certain things. To ensure that no one knew exactly _what_ the good doctor consulted them on, other than their own health.

 

John also knew that his brother had no compulsions against killing the man if the worst should happen. It would hurt them both. Like having to put down a favored pet; slightly more so, but it was an adequate comparison. They would grieve. But owners had been doing such things for centuries. Putting an animal down was, in general, for the safety of others or the overall quality of life of the animal itself. This, with as much as they valued the doctor, would be no different.

 

Dr. Michael Freeman suddenly seemed to come to a decision. He stopped his pacing and rounded on the two others. His tone was angry and accusatory. “Did you have anything to do with this? Is _that_ why you’ve been pursuing those girls?” They glanced at each other. Both noticing which noun he had used. ‘girls’ instead of ‘women’. It was the first time he had done that. To anyone else, it may have been seen as an oversight or habit. However, Gatiss and Altamont knew exactly how professional Freeman truly was when his patients were concerned. This change in vocabulary worried them. “Answer me!” Michael demanded, glaring at each in turn.

 

“Perhaps, Michael,” Mark said diplomatically, trying to introduce a calming influence by referencing how well they knew each other. “you can explain what you found that gives you this reaction.”

 

Dr. Freeman went back to his anxious, angry pacing at the response. His tone was just as antagonistic as before, but the focus had shifted slightly as he recited. “What has been done to those girls is _criminal_ and _whomever_ had a hand in it, I will personally shoot!” He half-growled. “Kneecap is painful. Or perhaps a quadriplegic. Having the humiliation of someone else wiping their ass for the rest of their _very_ long lives is a good start for what they’ve done!”

 

Neither had ever seen Michael in such a state before. Never had the doctor made any sort of actual threat, much less a threat that he seemed not only willing to execute but _eager_ to do so. Mark hit a hidden button. When the butler appeared only a few seconds afterward with a glass of ice and at least four shots of the good single-malt, Mark knew that the man had been anticipating their need. Of course, Mark paid him good money to do just that. “Thank you James.” The butler bowed slightly and left, silent and discreet as ever.

 

Michael sighed heavily as he drank at least one of the four shots in the glass in a single swallow. The flavor was apparently enough that he settled into the window seat with a loud half-growl half-sigh and a plop. Another long minute before he spoke again, this time with the hand not holding the glass over his face. “I’m going to tell you things. Not because I don’t think you don’t already know, but to let you know which ones are important and how I think they are related.”

 

The two exchanged another glance as they settled in to listen. Both knew that whatever Michael was going to say was going to have potentially profound impact and influence.

 

“You contacted me almost three years ago now for a very specific project.” John sat up straighter at the reminder. “You had read my file, gave me some personality tests to guard characteristics, as well as an IQ test which you were apparently impressed with, along with my standing upon graduating medical school. All gave you a very good idea that I was trustworthy, discreet, professional, and ultimately interested in the betterment of mankind as a whole. To that end, you gave me a distinct sample to run tests upon. Let’s call it being from John Doe as that’s what is in my system. That…moniker he calls himself I find rather self-aggrandizing. Not to mention dangerous if someone hacked my files with such a label where anyone who knew could guess to whom it actually pertained.” He took a breath and another – much smaller – draw on the glass.

 

“I noticed some…interesting characteristics Mr. Doe’s blood and tissue had. More than enough to bring about even more interesting leaps in medical science. While I destroyed the actual samples themselves almost immediately afterward so that they could not be stolen or verified by any interested third party.” His eyes were so full of emotion. “I have spent the time since isolating independent pieces of Mr. Doe’s DNA sequence, replicating them, and testing them. It has greatly advanced my own Alzheimer’s research by leaps and bounds with its unique method of memory-storage.”

 

He took another sip of the twelve-year-old scotch. “Most of the things I have found out are either useless, or useless at our current level of technology. I sent those pieces off to you two as they came, assuming that you would find other individuals like me, with different areas of research, so they could try to take advantage of the information. Or use it as fuel to encourage more technological advancements.” He looked over at the pair of them. “Did you do that?”

 

Mark gave a single-shoulder elegant shrug. “For some. None of them were even close to your level of compassion and trustworthiness. We gave them only as much information as was required.”

 

The doctor nodded, as if he had at least halfway expected such a response. “And how long did you have the sample from Mr. Doe that you gave me?”

 

“Not long. A week at most.” The ‘sample’ they had given the doctor was a scraping off of a very interesting appendage that had fallen from a ship that had hovered over London three years previous. The results Freeman had found made the intelligent doctor come to extremely accurate conclusions about life in the universe. Subsequently, they had begun to confide in him certain details about themselves, a little at a time. It took over a year to confirm that he would never share such information with anyone. At that point, they began to truly bring him into their confidence and start a real friendship…or as real as the two could have with someone that wasn’t themselves.

 

In such time there were still secrets they had not told Michael but for the most part, he was as aware of the true nature of Earth, its politics, and the various deals they had made to ensure its continued existence in the cosmos. That included the existence of one particular off-world visitor.

 

Of course, Michael had guessed much of the truth. Time-travel not included. They had imparted that piece only a year ago, give or take.

 

“Are there other samples?” Michael’s question blinked John back into the present. “I ask because, based on those girls’…” he took another long draw on his glass, “…someone has been experimenting with them.” Another sip. He had downed almost three shots by now. He wasn’t finished yet, either. “They have enough human-DNA to make it clear that they at least started that way.

 

“I have been looking at John Doe’s sequence every week for years as I synthesize the next portion to test. I know it when I see it. I know what the _results_ of my testing look like.” He closed his eyes as if in pain. “One of the first sequences I found was for a kind of fast-growth. I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off, but I did note the effects on the mice. Another of the beginning pieces was for high intelligence. Observed some really inventive solutions for their mazes.”

 

He swallowed sharply and gulped down the rest of the scotch. “From those two sequences, Nova was born. Either someone has been part of a breeding program involving Mr. Doe; or someone has perfected how to turn off the fast-growth hormone. Because one-fourth of her DNA is _not human_ …and it looks like it’s been that way her whole life. Her DNA is too stable in comparison with Sara’s to be anything else.”

 

The brothers shared another glance. This time apprehension and a small amount of fear in their eyes. They were not afraid of many. Only one individual in particular. They had gone to great lengths to make a binding contract, making many compromises, with that person to ensure the safety and wellbeing of millions of people.

 

“And Ms. Thomas?” Mark finally asked, his voice ever-so-carefully calm.

 

Dr. Freeman tried to take another drink, only to discover the glass empty and gave a deep sigh. He swung his feet around so he was half-off the seat, facing the other two. “Sara’s results…her DNA is not to the same percentage as Nova’s, but it is also constantly changing her own human-DNA to what it needs, when it needs it. I think. I had to calibrate the machine to compare the two samples I had from Sara. One from before your little Ketamine dinner and then after. Same percentage of Mr. Doe’s sequences, but in different areas.

 

“She is also producing some type of radiation that I had to calibrate the machine to see passed.” He ran his hand through his hair again, looking defeated, tired, angry, and mournful. Emotions flicking through his face and eyes rapid-fire as his thoughts found another aspect of the situation to focus on. “It’s my professional opinion that Sara Thomas is the result of genetic experiments on an already adult human. Nova has been part of a genetic experiment since before birth.”

 

His eyes focused on the two. “If you had a hand in this…” his voice trailed off threateningly.

 

Both shook their head solemnly and let show their own shock and horror at the very idea of such things occurring. “You know that human experimentation is not only against Earth law, but violates the contract we created with…Mr. Doe. We would _never_ do anything to violate that contract. It’s the only thing that prevents humanity from being put into slavery, or worse.”

 

Michael nodded, for he had known. But the girls…the situation was so terrible that he had to have a verbal confirmation. What had been done to them was beyond inhumane. Beyond even what came out at the Nuremburg trials, in his opinion. Those scientists had at least had the defense of ‘we’re at war’; while not a valid defense, it was one. But this…no part of Earth was currently at war. Not even secret wars. Nothing that would even _begin_ to warrant such measures.

 

“In that case,” he straightened his spine and focused his intense blue eyes on each other man in turn to express the now-formal nature of his statement. “I, Dr. Michael James Freeman, do hereby formally request asylum and protection on behalf of my patients, Ms. Sara Jennifer Thomas and Ms. Elayne Nova Morganson, until such time as their tormentors can be brought to justice or the threat eliminated.” He knew that the girls probably wouldn’t like the new measures that would be put into place because of his decision, but he doubted they had any idea what had been done to them. Their personalities and demeanors were too well-rounded and adjusted for them to know. If he hadn’t analyzed their DNA himself, and checked it twice each for good measure, and he had met them on the street they would have been unremarkable.

 

Even he, as a medical doctor with more than enough experience, formal training, and the top of his class, wouldn’t have been able to tell from day-to-day interactions. They behaved as perfectly normal mid-twenties females. Which meant the only plausible scenario he could think of was that they had no idea. Nova was probably given to a loving family to raise her outside of a lab. Sara’s memories wiped of the events, or kept sedated for the entire process.

 

The brothers didn’t even hesitate with their equally-formal reply. “We, on behalf of the Earth Government and Alien Oversight, do hereby accept into our protection and safekeeping the individual's Sara Jennifer Thomas and Elayne Nova Morganson until their safety and wellbeing is no longer under attack from outside forces; to include safe havens at their disposal, namely all property owned by Mark Neil Gatiss and John Thomas Altamont, where they may find all their physical, emotional, and mental needs met for the remainder of their lives.”

 

Once the legalese was finished, Michael collapsed back onto the window seat for a moment before getting to his feet again. “I’m going to borrow one of your guest bedrooms for the night.”

 

“Of course. You know that you are always welcome.”

 

“Sleep off the alcohol. Try to avoid the nightmares. Let me check on the girls in the morning.” He stopped right before he was to leave the room. “How much ketamine did you give them?”

 

“Enough that we will have to explain how they missed dinner. They shouldn’t be late for breakfast, however. I will ensure that salad, steak, and other means are available to them, doctor.” Mark assured the man. “You gave them into our protection, as established under the contract we have with Mr. Doe.” He decided he quite liked calling the off-worlder that. I sounded so much better to his ears. Less domineering and overbearing. “They are quite safe…even from ourselves.”

 

John watched as Michael finally fully left the room. Then he waited longer until he was certain that the doctor was out of hearing range. Finally, he faced his brother in all but blood. “This _does_ change things, you realize.” His eyes went up to face the part of the ceiling where one of the girls was sleeping. “Not just with the medical results. Our oath will ensure we keep them absolutely safe or we will have much more than two girls passing truth as mutated fiction to worry about.”

 

Mark nodded his understanding. At times it became clearer that he was the smarter of the pair. John sometimes had a tendency to state the obvious when he reached a certain level of concern. When such occasions did crop up, Mark humored his lifelong friend by answering with just as obvious replies. “The contract states that if we do not adhere to its clauses that the Doctor’s protection will be withdrawn. The Earth would be enslaved or destroyed in less than a year.” He took out his phone. “I will call up extra security for however long it takes me to find the ones culpable for the events of the last day, investigate the extenuations, and bring justice.”

 

John nodded in turn, pulling out his own cellphone. It was of only two on the planet capable of calling the Doctor direct. “I will inform _him_ that a clause of the contract has been enacted but that we estimate immediate resolve within a week.” Anyone actually able to gain protection under that specific contract, and the requirements were several to even qualify, also gained protection for life. Which was why he stated the ‘immediate resolve’.

 

In truth, Dr. Freeman’s activation of the contractual clause was lifelong of all of their parts – both the brothers’ and the those being protected – even going so far as to apply to their successors. It was binding and inescapable. Unless they violated the contract…which neither was willing to do. Sara Thomas and Nova Morganson were in fact only the second and third people to be under its umbrella. The first was male and was the entire reason that particular clause existed at all, along with its very careful wording.

 

Sara Thomas and Nova Morganson were now two of the safest people on the planet.

 

Not that they would enjoy the experience.

 

The new restrictions that would be put upon them, for their own safety, would chafe. Eventually the more strenuous restrictions would be relaxed, but not for at least three months _after_ their pursuers, all of them, were caught. They would still go about their work, but with a heavily-armed escort. It was to their advantage that the brothers had a reasonable political scenario to explain such protections and restrictions away; otherwise they would have had to arrange a ‘reasonable’ explanation. The last one hadn’t been pleasant to set up, while still ensuring nothing physical, mental, or emotionally harmful happened to the subject. It had been an exhausting thirteen days pulling everything off on top of providing the protections and pursuing the criminals. Neither brother had been able to sleep much during that time.

 

Another advantage was John would be relatively close, if not immediately on hand, to their jobs. The acting job had been a joke in the beginning. Not anymore. He was going to be playing the part of…himself. He smirked. _At least I have something to look forward to amuse myself_.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Dr. Freeman asked the two girls gently. Both appeared shaken. He had the presence of mind at least to arrange for their rooms to be adjoining knowing any measure of comfort would be of help through this experience.

 

Nova was trembling, holding tightly to Sara’s hand while tracing patterns on the nightgown she knew she didn’t own or remember changing into.

 

“The door.” Nova supplied. “They locked the door and….” She remembered Sara struggling to open it. “And they told us to change for dinner.” That was where all their memory became a blur. She looked down at her wrist seeing the distinct puncture wound over one of her veins. Pressing her lips together, her gut felt as though it were twisting, tightly knotted with her own fear. She glanced at Sara in that hint of knowing. At this moment, she saw little point to dance around the proverbial elephant in the room.

 

“You took a sample of our blood.” Nova managed to keep her voice stoic, staring at Dr. Freeman who had the decency to give them a look with regret mixed with sorrow.

 

“You both fell unconscious at dinner.” He said grimly. “Given you were medically incapacitated, I had no choice.”

 

“We told you ‘no’ before.” Sara said as though her statement could somehow unwind what had been done. “We didn’t give consent. This is unethical considering….” Her voice trailed as she struggled to think of the appropriate phrase to construe her meaning. She suddenly pushed herself up from the couch in the sitting room area they were both occupying, while tightening the robe she didn’t own around her. But she also didn’t know where her clothes were. These rooms while appearing so beautiful upon first glance, lacked the coziness of their own flat. “We both executed durable Power of Attorneys and our agent has a copy. As we are both acting agents for each other, we specifically named two provisional agents in that instance.” It was their publishing agent and their attorney. Both people they had long since developed a rapport with. “None of which are you or them.” Her hand gestured to their ‘hosts’.

 

Dr. Freeman simply waited patiently and nodded in general sympathy of his patients. They were aware of their distinct differences and nonetheless wanted to conceal it. Likely out of fear of losing their own autonomy. He understood their reasons for concealment given the debriefing he had already with them, but it failed to change the circumstances.

 

“A durable power of attorney was a smart idea,” He started cautiously. “But it only holds to the United States. You’re aware of our government mandated healthcare system and as a condition of your visa here-“

 

“Which they revoked.” Sara interrupted. “They declared us persons of interest.”

 

“On the contrary.” Michael sighed. It would be a long morning. Neither one seemed particularly motivated in touching their breakfast that was laid out on the table and he did want to see them eat. He pondered whether they enjoyed the traditional English breakfast. He hadn’t thought to ask them, only ensured that the proper amount of protein and vitamins were in the meal before sending the order to the kitchen. _But Americans eat a bit differently than we do._ He thought.  He cleared his throat. “Your passports were suspended. Your Visas are still in place and after your observation, you will be permitted to go back to work.”

 

There was a silence. Nova looked downcast while Sara appeared indignant.

 

“You have our blood. You must have…” Nova choked off, before standing up to look out the window.

 

“I’ve tested it, yes.” He spoke calmly. “And I only want to help you and as your doctor, anything you tell me, remains confidential. Just between yourselves and I-“

 

“And our ever so benevolent hosts downstairs, right?” Sara asked. “And perhaps a few research assistants. Who knows?”

 

“Sara….” Nova’s voice was weary. She still felt tired. Very lethargic even after having slept so long. She knew she had been sedated once but it had been relatively fast acting if she could judge. So why was she so tired?

 

“You would both feel better if you had something to eat. If you don’t like the…” Dr. Freeman winced as Sara had suddenly seized her breakfast place off the table and dashed it against the wall. Pieces of egg, sausage, toast and bacon were sliding off the wall while the tomatoes were already staining the expensive Persian sickle leaf vine scroll rug to which he believed Mark had stated was 17th century in origin.

 

“Not a fan of poached eggs?” Michael worked to keep his voice light. He knew what a strain this would be on his two patients and considering the heavy dose of ketamine they had been given, it only added to more complications.

 

“I’m not hungry.” Sara told him firmly while glancing at Nova seeing her own friend’s fatigue. It didn’t take a genius to realize their lost time was likely due to controlled use of a sedative. Considering that Dr. Freeman appeared to had left, John and Mark had likely delivered the chemical in some form. For that reason, she wasn’t trusting the food they were giving them.

 

“Sara, you need to eat. You both have to…” But Sara simply stalked out of the sitting room area back to her own bedroom, leaving Dr. Freeman in a fair amount of consternation.

 

“I’ll try to make something for us later.” Nova said finally. “We have a little agreement, Sara and I worked out at home. I cook most of the time. She cleans and brews the tea. But we trust one another. That is our relationship. As far as anything else….” She shook her head, “It’s not very relevant because Sara and I have that trust.” The word hung distinctly in the air.

 

“And you don’t trust me.” Dr. Freeman conceded. “Nor Mr. Gatiss or Mr. Altamont.”

 

Nova rubbed her hands over her arms, licking her lips. Her mouth felt dry. She looked at the breakfast waiting right there for her to try. Her stomach did ache with that distinct hollow feeling to it but she had to consider what else she might be ingesting. A list of possible chemicals that could be mixed with certain food groups ran through her head and she gave a slight shudder. Turning back to Dr. Freeman, she raised her eyebrows at his statement.

 

“You haven’t provided a lot of reason why we should.” She told him sadly, taking a measured breath as she hurried in step after Sara. At least, Dr. Freeman’s mind had some useful things at the very surface that didn’t become buried in the more practiced mazes she experienced with the other two. At least, one thing in particular was the security code that kept the house on a monitored lockdown.

 

It was a particular prize but she hesitated on whether or not to propose using it just for the purpose of getting to their flat. The considering public mania they had drawn wasn’t counterfeit by any means from the two brothers. What risk might they undertake in getting outside if the car they were in was hit so easily on a public street? She’d nearly burned to death. Somehow, from what they knew of the brothers, it would hardly seem in their agenda to take such an uncalculated and maddening risk. She was told she stopped breathing for several moments before Sara….

 

She closed her eyes. The saying Sara employed before. ‘ _Better the devil we know than the devil we don’t.’_ But that notion alone was terrifying. Who was the devil they didn’t know?

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

It was the media scrutiny as well as their continued presence right outside their estate often delivering live updates as to the ‘progress’ in the ‘crisis from Bonfire Night’. Even though only one night and a morning had since passed, that was considered a lengthy time for the press who demanded updates for the dramatic scenario involving Nova and Sara.

 

Neither brother had been particularly forthcoming. Mark Gatiss relayed to them the two authors were resting comfortably and were now considered safe from the sudden attack that occurred last night. But the press wanted more. Of course they wanted more. News was entertainment. They wanted a statement from the authors themselves and considering the viral feed that Nova sent out on the internet, accompanied by their interviews on the talk show, the press was nothing if not circumspect about the supposed reconciliation that occurred for the public to see.

 

But if nothing else, this caused each brother to feel inclined to approach their guests even if said guests were not in a talkative mood as far as they were concerned. But the brothers had gone so far as to make a public statement promising their appearance at a publicized reception that night in recognition of the work performed by a colleague. Although, he had been allowed a limited access to the knowledge Dr. Freeman had perused several years ago, in contrast, Dr. Richard Landvik was considered far less scrupulous. Therefore, someone they kept a measured eye on should his value or benefit therefore become exhausted.

 

But this doctor promised tonight would be a surefire boon for them as to the achievement he was able to find. His premise was based on DNA rejuvenation and repletion.

 

Mark Gatiss was carefully watching the television after the statement he delivered to see whether it had the impact he desired while John Altamont was content to invariably fold his hands together and stare off into a distant corner, reanalyzing the information for which had come to their disposal.

 

Mark had only to clear his throat to capture his friend’s attention. “Shall we make our potential escorts aware of tonight’s venture?”

 

John nodded. “Best to conclude such necessities as early as possible.” Such an event was a way of hitting two birds with one stone. _Well, in consideration…three._ He thought of the Doctor in turn with the event. Having their guests cooperate was a very necessary fait accompli.

 

It merely had to be explained to them. Their willing participation would make this endeavor far simpler.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**Chapter 06**

 

Nonetheless, difficulty in such arrangements now had to be considered. When they first knocked, Sara had only taken the opportunity to open the door thus to slam it shut in their faces, while locking it.

 

“That won’t help.” Nova’s voice could be heard just as Mark used his key to unlock the deadbolt.

 

“Maybe not.” Sara muttered. “But it did make me feel better.”

 

“How reassuring.” John said smoothly. “Am I to take your improved disposition as a sign that you might consider joining us to a dinner engagement we’ve all been extended an invitation to?”

 

Both girls looked at him mildly stunned but Sara folded her arms across her chest. “The only thing we’re interested in at the moment is going home, back to our flat.” She watched the two start to shake their heads. “Oh, then you have my answer at least. What you’ve both done was deplorable.” She started to shake. “Nova nearly died in that Bonfire and it was only so you could obtain a blood sample. Certainly, there were easier ways for men such as you that didn’t risk her life….” Since the girls slept through the entire discussion downstairs and left before Dr. Freeman could discuss the entirety of his findings with his patients, they still considered the brothers suspect in the accident and kidnapping that put Nova to such degree of risk.

 

“Certainly there was.” Mark answered. “Which is why you have my word…” He paused, glancing at John. “Our word, that we were not involved in any way with the car crash or subsequent kidnapping.” He sighed given their expression. “The methodology was simply not our own. Consider for a moment, if all we wanted was a blood sample, would we need to create such a ruse? Certainly not to the risk or cost of your lives. We have declared you as beneficiaries after all.”

 

“Beneficiaries…” Nova repeated as Sara realized to a degree the legal procedure he enacted.

 

“Secondary trustees of their estate.” Sara managed. “You…why would you name us? We’re not related. We….” She pressed her lips together. “We really only just met.”

 

“Have we?” John emphasized, referring to her books only subtly. He allowed a moment for the girls to meander on his meaning. “Nevertheless, we are under particular obligation to keep you both protected especially after what just occurred. Having you named as agents of our estate, if you will, ensures your own safety in lieu of the contract we are obligated to uphold. Something we regard with the utmost severity.”

 

“Then let us see this contract.” Sara demanded. “Who is it with?” Both girls had their own distinct dread but they needed a confirmation. At current, they had been acting on Nova’s ability to obtain impressions from each of their minds. A dodgy process at best. But now….well, often words were simpler without the political or public dance they made to circumvent matters at hand.

 

“I think you both know very well who.” Mark said with that very distinct air of certainty. Nova pressed her hands together. She couldn’t regard it as surprise since she anticipated this answer. Nevertheless, confirmation of _his_ presence lurking in the shadows behind them filled her with a conflict. Would he really be how she saw him in each one of her dreams? Was he near to the Time Lord Victorious Sara described or the Scary Doctor? She shook her head in befuddlement.

 

“Maybe you should just tell us.” Nova said, keeping her voice sure, looking at her friend, who nodded in agreement. This relationship, business or otherwise, had been rocky at its foundation. If anything was to be achieved they needed….transparency, as Sara once mentioned. At least, if nothing else, between themselves.

 

John gave a small shake of his head, more to himself and Mark than to anything the girls had said. It was going to have to be the hard way until the two understood and believed that they were safe…even from the brothers. “I believe that you call him ‘the Doctor’ in your books. We have recently started to refer to him as Mr. Doe.”

 

“Like John Doe?” Nova asked, her voice shaking slightly at the absolute confirmation.

 

“Precisely.” Mark deemed the same thing that John had concluded. It was time to tell the girls the truth. The _real_ truth. “Over a decade ago, after we achieved our current positions, we put the pieces together that an individual, with the apparent ability to travel through time, had been ‘visiting’ Earth for hundreds of years. He was seen in drawings, paintings, even a few sculptures. Especially for historically significant events.”

 

“Pompeii. The Titanic. Nagasaki.” John mentioned several more places and times that they had seen evidence of this man. “There were several of him, it seemed at the time. However, since we only ever found reference to a ‘Doctor’, we considered the possibility that he simply would change his appearance when necessary to avoid suspicion.”

 

The girls exchanged glances. It was really close to what actually occurred in regeneration. The conclusion was logical.

 

“Finally, there came an…incident…that we were able to see him in person. It was…humbling.” Mark continued. His expression was almost constipated at his admission. “We could see from his body language that he wasn’t human. The way he moved was quicker than human ability was capable of producing, even from Olympic athletes. From the limited information we held at the time, we were forced to conclude this Doctor was a threat.”

 

Nova sucked in a sharp breath, still feeling a bit faint from the sedative but she wasn’t going to mention it. She glanced at Sara, who was suddenly as pale as Nova was feeling herself. “What did you do?” they both asked simultaneously, fear in their tone and eyes.

 

John nodded solemnly at their reaction. “I see you know him better than we did. I will not go into the details, but suffice to say that the Doctor beat us at our own game. He also somehow knew of our professions and ourselves without us having to say anything. Upon that encounter, he explained many things and conclusions we had formed were wrong. He let us into his ship for several minutes to prove his words.”

 

“Thus, we made a deal. A contract. There was someone he wanted to protect, but couldn’t do himself. In return—“

 

“Who?” Sara inserted abruptly. “Why couldn’t he protect them?”

 

“He said that just being in his proximity made him physically ill. However, this person was a friend, would live a long life, and needed a safe haven.” Mark tried again.

 

He was cut off again. “What’s their name?” Nova asked this time. She thought she may know, given the clues, but didn’t want to make assumptions.

 

Mark raised an eyebrow at their second interruption, making clear how rude it was. Nova had the decency to blush, but she really wanted to know. “Very well. I believe he did show up in one of your more recent books, Ms. Morganson. You called him ‘Jack Harkness’. It’s not his real name, but it suits for the moment.”

 

“Jack can take care of himself.” Sara countered.

 

“Yes. Quite well, it turned out. However, the safe haven clause in the contract is for the lifetime of the protectee, as well as applying to all the successors to our positions. Mr. Harkness will _always_ be able to find safety and shelter on any of our estates.”

 

“What else is in this contract?” Nova asked softly. “What does the Doctor do for his part?”

 

“The Doctor guards the planet from threats we cannot deal with on our own. I have only had to call him in a handful of times, but each time the Earth would not have survived without him. We have no doubt that without the Doctor’s protection, the Earth will be enslaved or destroyed within a year. We will _not_ break the contract.” Mark said firmly, with great conviction. It was obvious that he believed exactly what he was saying, and thus would do anything he needed to, to ensure the contract held on their end.

 

John nodded his own agreement. “The two of you are only the second and third individuals under which the contract applies. Your mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing are now our responsibility. You are quite safe. Even from us.”

 

The room went quiet as the brothers let the girls absorb that knowledge. Finally, Nova asked, “Is there anything else you do as part of the contract?”

 

“As a gesture of courtesy, we ensure that any incident or proof of the Doctor’s existence is wiped from all records. Which was part of the reason you got our attention. Your books were disturbingly accurate for things that we had ensured were impossible to find. While most of the details were incorrect, the general overview was true. It was a wonderful way to throw off anyone who still held belief in the Doctor’s existence, as well as our own. But we also had to investigate to be sure that all it was were two girls drawing conclusions based on obviously old data.”

 

John took over the explanation. “It was also amusing to audition for the part of myself. We just had to ensure you were not a threat. The events such far have changed things.”

 

Mark picked it back up, “Until such time as those responsible for the bonfire incident are caught and brought to justice, and for a further three months afterward to ensure safety, you will both be under strict guard, for your own safety. However, ‘cabin fever’ is quite real and we would like to offer an evening out. One of our many scientists has made a breakthrough and is giving a party tonight so that the event may be publicized.”

 

“Having the media see you with us will stem some of the tide, you realize.” John interjected with a calm smile. “Calm the flow of public aggression. The less reason the media has to invade your privacy, the more independence we may afford you through the contract. The more public you both are; the more chance you will be targeted.”

 

Nova was still holding Sara’s hand, and sent the thought _They haven’t lied since they stepped into the room. It’s all true._ To her friend. To let her decide.

 

Sara was more circumspect. She knew that Nova could discern between a truth and a fiction. It was among one of her many talents gifted with her steadily increasing telepathic ability. That discernment. They often speculated on the amount of Time Lord heritage she might have, given the Doctor’s presence was said to be concrete. Nova would often say that the tendency for telepathic ability according to her dreams was better used by females than the males in the population. The question nearly came to the tip of her tongue. They had taken their blood. What had they discovered?

 

She bit her lip. But then, it would open up to more questions as to their nature. Their origins. The two dimensions they came from. She remembered reading in the Sherlock Holmes tales as well as the television show in her dimension, his lack of interest or knowledge in astronomy. He had no care of it. It was likely John Altamont was no exception until the Doctor posed an appearance, utterly confounding them. Then, they had to adapt and acquire knowledge of the stars. _How humiliating._ She took a deep breath.

 

Despite the evident truth they only spoke while in this room, Sara did not know whether she could place her faith in people that were never consistently truthful. That didn’t think twice at drugging them to achieve their aims much less come to a studio under false pretenses. She hardly knew what to make of the car crash that left Nova in such jeopardy. The timing seemed too coincidental and calculated. Either they staged the car crash and kidnapping or someone who knew about the brothers’ disregard for strange coincidences timed it to frame them. Either proposal was a disheartening one.

 

At this measure, Sara would rather acquire and trust their own people to protect them…a neutral source, than trying to make a decision here. How was she supposed to check the validity of this contract they engaged? Ask the Doctor when they spotted him? Oh, that would not be a good idea. She recalled Nova’s statement to her. That the Doctor was perfectly within his rights to confine them on his ship for the rest of their natural lives and if this contract was true….

 

“We tell the press, if I’m understanding you, we agreed to stay here for our own safety. That your imprisonment is not really imprisonment.” Sara repeated flatly.

 

“I would define it as a sanctuary.” Mark said. “You will be allowed to proceed to the BBC studio to continue your work. However, what independence you acquire is dependent on you.” He gave a brief smile at both girls apparent silence. “You do say imprisonment but it is not our long term objective to keep you confined. Surely, we want you to have as much freedom as every civilian seems to cherish. We haven’t confined you in cells. You are able to move about the estate within reason.” He paused. “Tonight is an opportunity to shine a light on the perpetrator responsible. Public opinion is split at this moment. Many level accusations against us but there are those that believe you two are stirring up the proverbial pot for your own agenda. To increase publicity for your shows.” He sighed. “And they say there is no such thing as bad publicity.”

 

“We never believed that.” Nova said quietly. “We simply wanted to explain our side. Surely you can admit there were alternatives to your introductions.”

 

Mark then looked at John who seemed to give a shrug, appearing aloof. “Then, I apologize.”

 

Sara gave a brief snort. The comment lacked any remnant of sincerity. “You apologize?”

 

“Yes. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?”

 

Sara clenched her fists as she was presently simmering. “I think you’re supposed to mean it too.”

 

“Ah, but Ms. Thomas, you know me. Or you appear to considering the amount of detail you used to describe my character in your books. While I can endeavor to sympathize on an intellectual scale, you ask for empathy. It is not a quality I acquired.”

 

Another strained silence. “Might we have your answer?” Mark asked. “There are preparations that need to be made. Several in fact to ensure our timely arrival.” He had to arrange for secure transportation and security, especially where the press was concerned. And that was just getting there. His two guests needed to have lunch since breakfast had apparently been refused. From his observation of Nova, she would require a few hours respite in the afternoon to sleep off the after effects of the drug. Apparently, Sara didn’t appear to be suffering from any further fatigue and he pondered whether it had something to do with her transitioning DNA or the radiation she was emitting. Considering the contract they were obliged to act under, neither one could be subjected to any undue tests or examinations. But he had acquired their blood samples for use in research. From what Dr. Freeman was saying, the applications for research alone would be months if not years in the process. The girls weren’t going anywhere. Not out of his purview. He could afford to wait.

 

Sara looked between the two, digesting what they said but also considering the opportunity. She wasn’t sure how they would use the venture tonight but from what they alluded to, it was a singular event. Yes, they might have to play along for the moment to ease the burden of the press considering the volatility of that campaign. Public scrutiny had its positive and negative merits.

 

 _But for the moment…_ Sara thought.

 

“We’ll go and try to satisfy the press.” She managed. “But it’s a relatively free entity. We can’t promise anything if what you say is true.”

 

Nova glanced at Sara sensing her friend’s mind. Knowing she saw this night as a vague opportunity. _But an opportunity for what?_ “We can attempt to do our best.” The red head added simply.

 

“We are indeed appreciative.” Mark said. “Just so you are aware, there will be rules regarding your safety and security. We expect them to be followed at all times.”

 

“And as your escorts, we expect you to remain within a reasonable distance or by our sides at all times.” John was quick to add.

 

“I assume you won’t need to follow us into the restroom.” Nova tried, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. This evening out already felt suffocating on various levels.

 

“Oh, I hardly think that necessary, Ms. Morganson. We have hired a diverse security crew, which also include women. They are perfectly capable of seeing you through those necessities.” Mark’s voice was glib.

 

Sara simply closed her eyes. It would be a long night and if she was honest with herself, she had no certain plan. Exercising any amount of control within a very limited box….they still seemed to be in the same box. _Or I’m just another puppet._ She thought briefly of Jack Harkness or truly what his name happened to be. They had never thought to look under the actor or actress names, not that those entirely applied to all circumstance but if they had….

 

_Would we even be in this mess?_

 

Xxxxxxxxxx

 

Dr. Freeman saw them through lunch and considering his presence was far more down to earth, they relaxed….slightly. He even went so far as to eat a bit of everything that was on the table, including items he habitually loathed. Nova could tell just by his expression when he sampled the olives. She nearly wanted to laugh at his face as he painstakingly chewed and swallowed.

 

“Well, that was…unexpected.” He managed. “But you see, no sedatives, not even in the sugar for the tea.”

 

“That’s alright.” Sara dismissed. “I don’t take sugar in my tea.”

 

“Speak for yourself.” Nova muttered. She could use all the help she could get.

 

He then tried to ease the tension by saying how much he loved both their books. How simply amusing they were and he often read a few of them more than once after a long day spent at the clinic.

 

“Which of them were your favorites?” Nova asked quietly.

 

“Hmm, the Unquiet Dead, I would need to say. I enjoyed the portrayal you did of Charles Dickens combined with the Gelth. All the elements for a Victorian ghost story. I was reminded of the Christmas Carol.”

 

That had been some research. Sara wanted to include more about Charles Dickens than the original television episode had allotted. She had read several of the books. Oliver Twist, Great Expectations and the aforementioned Christmas Carol. She also knew at that juncture, Charles Dickens had been dying and was struggling to end the one book he had been writing that still according to history went unfinished. _The Mystery of Edwin Drood._

 

“’No space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused.’” Sara quoted, her voice a murmur. Nova briefly winced, given another reminder of their home they had been torn from.

 

“I think I’m full and I’m tired.” The redhead admitted as Sara glanced at her with concern but Nova just shook her head. It wasn’t the result of any additional chemicals but still the ones in her system. “From this morning. I’m going to take a nap for a couple hours.”

 

There was a pause after Nova had retreated from the sitting room area. “I’ll full too.” Sara muttered, getting up from her chair.

 

“Sara,” Dr. Freeman started. “I’m sorry that I….”

 

The brunette turned and just looked at him. “Dr. Freeman, I think I’ve had enough false apologies for one day, wouldn’t you agree?” She closed her door, leaving the physician to simply stand there muttering silently, feeling the slow workings of guilt edge upon him for a situation that he knew was beyond his scope of control.

 

“It wasn’t a false apology.” He muttered to the door, knowing that neither girl could hear him.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 

That evening saw them to the very financial center of London, a modernized area that was in distinct architectural separation from the more historic counterparts. Buildings that the girls were relatively accustomed to seeing in American cities in contrast to historic London. Nova stared out the window in curiosity. One block had appeared damaged where those structures had been demolished. But she could see the rubble and the placement of a memorial wall, where several hundred names were engraved to the exterior. In bold calligraphy were the words, _We Remember…_

 

“Tragic, isn’t it?” John asked and Nova glanced back at him. He simply stared at the memorial site. “Several of our associates perished in that calamity.”

 

“The Doctor.” Nova tried. “You called him, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course. Once we knew the situation had grown beyond our means of control, we contacted him. But in these situations, there is often collateral damage.” Mark affirmed. “However, this could have been far worse.” He sighed. “Canary Wharf has often been the epicenter for one attack or other, both alien or domestic in origin. During World War II, the German Blitz bombed this section in particular since it was a dedicated shipping port.”

 

“That’s why all the buildings are new.” Sara surmised.

 

“Relatively speaking.” John confirmed.

 

Sara simply pressed her hands into the folds of her simple black A-line dress. At least it was hers and from her own closet despite the circumstances.  They didn’t want another borrowed outfit but insisted that the least they could do is give them the comfort of their own clothing. At this request, the two brothers didn’t protest and sent personnel to collect all their clothing from their flat.

 

But it was better than the alternative and when they stepped out of the car, they were immediately approached by the waiting media.

 

“Miss Morganson, Miss Thomas, care to comment on your whereabouts since the crisis at the Bonfire Night?” One asked.

 

“Miss Morganson, it was reported your condition was critical when you were removed from the fire. Was this in fact a staged production to increase interest in both your shows prior to their release?”

 

“What?” Nova said, aghast. “No. I was kidnapped, drugged and placed in there. It was terrifying and….”

 

“Miss Thomas, you were there. Was it true that Miss Morganson had stopped breathing? Was the incident surrounding the car crash related to your investors, John Altamont and Mark Gatiss?”

 

Sara knew they were watching her and pulled her shoulders back. “I’m not sure what you are implying. John Altamont was present because he was on set when we conducted the interview. His presence at the crash remains a lucky coincidence.” The way she said coincidence was not missed by either of the two brothers. “Nova wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t assisted in rescuing her in time but at this moment, I’m sure the Scotland Yard and our security would welcome any tips as to the _true_ perpetrators. We do not stage publicity stunts nor think any part of what occurred was at all amusing. In truth, Nova Morganson could have died last night if it wasn’t for their assistance.” She paused. “We wish to thank them now that we are here for their intercession for their quick thinking and being the heroes we never expected them to be.” With that she smiled brightly and extended a hand to Mark who shook it, tightening his grip ever so slightly on hers. The meaning seemed clear. A message of _behave,_ was expressed to her in that brief candid glance. They both seemed to know perfectly well Sara was sporting with words.

 

Nova grimaced internally as she shook each man’s hand for the cameras, thinking of how Sara managed to use coincidence and heroes around these two in almost the same sentence. She knew her friend was mocking them in a way they would understand. _At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humor….or sarcasm._

 

“It was our pleasure.” Mark said aloud. “Considering the situation, we intend to help in every way that we are able.”

 

“Of course.” John agreed. A few more questions came and then requests for a few pictures of the four. Then on photographer asked for a picture with the writer of Sherlock Holmes as well as the newly cast lead. Sara felt her stomach churn but consented. _Just one more…._

 

The two simply stood side by side. “Mr. Altamont, if you can take Miss Thomas’s arm or put your arm around her…” He suggested.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sara quickly stepped back. “I think you’re under the false impression that Mr. Altamont or Mr. Gatiss are really interested in women. But that’s an easy mistake to make.” The photographer looked a bit shocked but before John could respond, Sara had rejoined Nova.

 

“Let’s just go inside before it gets any worse.” Sara muttered and Nova nodded although wondering if there would be consequences to pay for Sara’s barb against the two brothers.

 

Xxxxxxxxx

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

**Chapter 07**

 

Sara was sipping from her wine glass in the plush reception area as Nova sampled one of the appetizers. A salmon mousse that was actually quite good if she admitted it. Their two escorts were just ten feet away conversing with two others. Names they hadn’t been bothered to remember. No one at the party seemed very familiar and it was all surrounding this Dr. Landvik they also didn’t know. He was presenting the findings of a research study.

 

“It doesn’t sound familiar to you?” Nova asked Sara.

 

“Not really.” Sara said. “Actually it sounds very dull.” She paused. “There’s a reason why I didn’t pursue medicine for my degree. I had to do a media and research class but….” She shrugged. “Everyone hated doing it.” Sara hiccupped, giving a slight giggle belying her slightly buzzed nature. Nova smiled, sipping from her own wine glass. It was nice to see her friend laugh and given the circumstances, laughter seemed to be a small commodity these days.

 

“Let’s go look at the view.” She suggested. They are on a high rise and could see much of the City of London from where they were.

 

“Okay.” Sara agreed easily, passing a table filled with brochures. _Landvik Laboratories._ She thought, reading from them. _Richard Landvik. ‘Where life begins anew.’_ “Life begins anew?” She repeated. “Oh, I’m sure no one has thought of that slogan. What’s he selling?”

 

“The fountain of youth?” Nova muttered, rolling her eyes. “It talks about DNA rejuvenation and…” Her words trailed as a distinct pang of familiarity ran through her. “I have a bad feeling.”

 

At the same moment, the lights dimmed. Dr. Richard Landvik made his way to the center unveiling the machine that was to be the center of his presentation. Sara suddenly had a feeling what this was.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” Dr. Landvik proceeded. “I am Professor Richard Landvik and I’m going to be performing a miracle tonight.”

 

A shadow brushed by, just touching Nova’s sleeve. She turned with a gasp only to feel her heart give way to palpitations at the sudden familiarity. The scent. Just the presence of his mind. She knew. _The Doctor. It’s him._ She stumbled back towards the window, pulling Sara with her. In the dark, no one saw her minor mis-steps. No one but….

 

The very man turned back to discern their presence, hesitating a moment, before reaching his primary objective of the professor in front. She felt Sara gasp at her side. She had seen him too.

 

“Tonight you will watch and wonder.” Dr. Landvik continued. “Tomorrow you will wake to a world that will be changed forever.” He entered the machine and blue light started to stream out of it at vast quantities.

 

 _Is that…._ Nova looked in horror. It resembled to some extent the energy Sara emitted. To some extent but not quite. Similar elements with other things added to the mix. It was causing an electro-chemical disturbance. The machine itself was overloading.

 

“We have to go.” Sara seized Nova’s hand not thinking once about the supposed contract in place or the agreement they made. If their two protectors were associated with such an individual and then seeing the Doctor here….they had their moment and the public around them were starting to panic. “While we still have time.” The darkness allowed for them to enter the elevator bank so far unmolested by the security Mark had instilled. She frantically pushed the button to try to implore the elevator to come at a faster rate.

 

“Miss Thomas, Miss Morganson. This is not our agreement.” John’s voice was heard in the background heading towards them. “Stay-“

 

He sighed. They had changed course and headed for the stairs. He would need to call the security downstairs to meet them.

 

“Well, hello again, Mr. Altamont.”

 

John turned. At the moment, this wasn’t the least bit entertaining. “I’m afraid I’m a little pressed for time.”

 

“Oh, you didn’t miss me.” His adversary asked sarcastically. “Not the slightest bit?”

 

Before he could respond, the fire alarm was triggered in their proximity. Water rained down soaking them through as well as his phone, which among its many deficits, wasn’t particularly water proof.

 

He cursed mildly as he ran to the stairs, giving Mark a brief signal that security was being hampered.

 

“I’ll be seeing you.” His nameless adversary called after him mockingly. Their meetings were often haphazard at best, although Sara’s description of Moriarty seemed a suitable parallel. Perhaps the two girls knew more than what was currently published about the individual. They would certainly need to be questioned.

 

 _That is, once we find them._ John thought.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Under an hour later the brothers finally found the girls. They had been slightly…delayed in looking for them when they discovered exactly how insane their scientist had been. Then another five minutes of quiet-yelling from…Mr. Doe for their stupidity in who they hired and to get a better screening process.

 

Finally, the ambulances were around and treating the injuries of the various people who hadn’t been smart enough to run while they could. Fortunately, there wasn’t very many.

 

A call came in from the private security line that the girls had been found. They actually hadn’t gone that far away. They were slightly drunk in a bar down the street. Not very, so they couldn’t have been drinking much for long. Still, John and Mark exchanged looks of the impending interesting conversation. Why had they run?

 

An EMT was looking them over at the moment, ensuring that they weren’t harmed by any debris that had fallen, their hearing was fine even after the loud screaming shriek from the creature the former scientist had given as it fell from the bell tower, and when it was all done, the EMT just shook his head and handed them both a sealed water bottle and told the brothers that it was to prevent dehydration from the alcohol they had consumed.

 

“Thank you. We will take them home now.”

 

“Keep an eye on them. Just because I can’t tell right now doesn’t mean there isn’t anything wrong.”

 

“Of course.” Mark inclined his head. Then gestured for them to climb into the waiting limousine. The girls seemed to be torn between staying in the public light and getting into the vehicle. “Now, what happened?”

 

To avoid answering, because neither had any desire to do so any time soon and explain some very uncomfortable facts, the girls exchanged looks and opened their bottles. Taking a long swig, Sara gestured with her other hand to her mouth to indicate that she was otherwise occupied.

 

Nova didn’t even bother going that far. She was honestly thirsty. They had drunk so much alcohol – straight Jameson whiskey for her and four shots at that! – that Nova was concerned with how not-drunk they were. It didn’t quite make sense. However, she also knew that the best way to prevent a hangover was to drink a lot of water before sleeping. So, since it was in her hand and she really didn’t want to answer questions, she set about draining the 20-oz bottle.

 

Both girls had to physically unseal the bottles, so it never occurred to them that someone could have tampered with the water. They never suspected. Why would anyone do such a thing?

 

However, not too long after Nova was about ¾ done with her bottle, she began to feel strange. Even stranger than after the ketamine incident. She pulled the water away from her lips, finished swallowing, and her body froze as her mind proceeded to analyze the feeling. It wasn’t quite nausea, but it wasn’t pain either. Quietly, she voiced a concern. “Something’s wrong.” The brothers tensed beside them.

 

The Pain Scale was invented to help doctors understand how much pain a patient was in. However, since pain is subjective, it is not without downsides. A child thinks even a small scrape is enough to cry over. An adult knows better. The Pain Scale goes from zero to ten, with zero being all smiles and no pain, and ten being the worst pain a person has ever experienced in their lifetime.

 

Nova knew such a scale because of her step-mother. So, as she did every time she began to feel ill, she rated it on the Pain Scale in her mind. The pain was relatively small at first. Just a slight nausea. It didn’t stay that way. It escalated in intensity quickly. Her mathematician mind noted absently that it was exponential in nature. That mental notation did not stop her from collapsing to her knees when it got too much, struggling to even pull in air.

 

“Nova!” Sara cried out, dropping to her knees next to her friend. She too felt strange. But Nova couldn’t breathe. All concerns pushed aside, she had to summon her healing ability to help her friend. John had already reacted gripping Nova by the arms, examining her superficially. “It appears to be respiratory distress.” He said to Mark. “We need the medical kit from the car. Have the security summon Dr. Freeman.”

 

“Already en route.” Mark said, stepping forward. Admittedly, John had more knowledge vesting in this particular area concerning biology and chemistry. His mind focused on business, psychology, mathematics and communication. They each had their strengths and rationalized the information they kept in their minds as to what would be the most efficient in coordination with each other. He took a step closer, deciding not to waste any further time as he quickly analyzed Sara. “Are you able to heal her?” He was well aware of her ability, suspected it previously but it was considerably nice to receive confirmation in the restaurant and at the Bonfire even if the circumstances were not directly under his control.

 

Sara disregarded semantics, considering the verifiable emergency that was on her hands. “I’m trying but I’m….” She started to gasp, feeling an excruciating chest pain that seemed to crawl up from her arm to her neck and then to her jaw. “I’m…”

 

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, narrowing his eyes.

 

“I can’t…” It was the last words Sara was able to manage before she coughed up a vast quantity of blood and then collapsed unconscious on the ground next to Nova.

 

“Clear the direct vicinity.” John ordered to the security. “Shutdown Canary Wharf. Not one vehicle is to leave without our direct permission.” He glanced at his brother. “They appear to be throwing a blood clot. Symptoms of pulmonary embolism.” He shook his head. “Considering the nature of their biology, this event is unlikely to occur naturally.” The security brought the medical kits and he immediately administered oxygen to them both, while gauging their vitals. Their pulse rates were rapid while their skin was clammy.

 

They still weren’t getting enough oxygen. _Intubation._ John thought. Admittedly, not a strong point. He often was a particular observer of corpses rather than overseeing to the medical care of live people. Still, it was practical he should learn since Michael Freeman wasn’t always on sight. Things had the tendency to become hazardous once or twice. He started with Nova whose situation appeared more acute. She had lost consciousness first and already her heartbeat was becoming irregular. 

 

Taking the laryngoscope, he placed it in Nova’s mouth to push her tongue aside, while pressing his thumbs against her thyroid for accurate visualization. Carefully he wedged it down past her tonsils and above her voice box. The procedure now complete, he attached the tube to the portable respirator set there for his disposal. He quickly turned to Sara.

 

“Right, I’m here.” Michael’s voice interrupted. “Nice to see how royally you two mucked this all up again in less than 24 hours.” Sarcasm was radiating from his voice as he gritted his teeth. He wondered if they needed a manual or a page with nice large-printed instructions. Two days rest. Decent meals. Nowhere did it say gallivant them off to a press or media event to help them resolve the conflict these men seemed so ready to commit. _Perhaps a list with nice, neat little numbers. One through five. Can’t possibly…._

 

He looked at both the girls and swallowed before removing the second intubation kit for Sara. “Right.” He said as he started to perform the same procedure that John had performed on Nova. “I’m making do with what I have so you are now a medic. I need an IV line in both. And blood samples.” Checking for toxicity of any kind was his first step but a complicated one. He had to compare the blood samples taken with the ones he obtained last night to detect a differential. While John worked on that task, Michael searched the bag for accessible thrombolytics. At this point, he wasn’t particular. He just needed to stabilize them for transport and the pulmonary embolism was occurring in rapid succession.

 

He was fearful they were at risk for a cerebral embolism. The very worst case scenario and if they lost them, the contract they exercised with ‘Mr. Doe’…he swallowed, working frantically finding the vials he needed just as John finished the last IV line into Sara.

 

“Perhaps you should contact Mr. Doe for assistance.” Michael suggested.

 

“That wouldn’t be advisable. He was very well mal-tempered today and could see this incident as precedent for a breach of contract. The girls would be taken and our planet left out of his protection.”

 

“You should have considered that before you took them on this media circus after I told you twice they should stay under observation for two days!” He barked at them as he blew air out of the needle he was holding. “For such intelligent men, you two behave like complete and utter idiots. If you two were actually related, I would assume it to be a family trait!”

 

“I’m sorry.” John said, putting his most grave tone into the apology as Michael finished injecting the thrombolytics into the IV’s for both girls. He held his breath briefly, looking at the portable screen monitoring both their vitals. Blowing out his breath, he was alleviated to some degree as they started to respond to the emergency clot dissolver.

 

“You’re just saying that. Perhaps Sara was right. Too many false apologies for one night.”

 

“I am indeed sorry about the turn of events. If I could have prevented the cause by altering our decision to come here, I would.” John voiced. He wasn’t lying. One recrimination already tonight with his now former colleague. The next, the two girls being moved to stretchers in front of him. Neither he nor his brother thought this was an ideal resolution to the evening’s events.

 

“Their stable for now.” Michael said wearily but they both need to go to the Clinic. “For my sanity and their protection.” The Clinic was a privately funded underground research and medical center, all state of the art for which only the three men and very select staff working there knew about. The singular amount of contracts each nurse and doctor working for that small facility signed was staggering. Technology was also used to assure their compliance via a strongly implanted posthypnotic suggestion. A metal implant simply called a neuristor was placed at the very base of their skulls monitoring the status of the imposed commands. Acquired during a previous small scale alien invasion, the technology had been adapted from its rudimentary purposes of simply resisting the hypnotic force put forth by what those the girls had titled ‘Cybermen’. _An adequate description._ Mark thought. It was different than the imposed serial number system he was often versatile in using.

 

“Of course, I was about to suggest the very same solution.” Mark said as the two brothers followed behind Michael and the girls. He was increasingly concerned. He knew the Michael Freeman would exercise all options to find a solution to remedy his patients but was there indeed a solution? Considering that these girls had been highly resistant, given their previous medical history, or lack thereof, to various viruses or epidemics, what would be causing the irregularity now?

 

 _A better question…_ Mark thought of Mr. Doe. Whatever was causing such a reaction would likely have the same result with Mr. Doe. Considering that this very person chose not to admit this pivotal weakness, well….Mark briefly raised his eyebrows. Both parties were contractually obligated but that didn’t mean Mr. Doe trusted them. Oh no. Not fully and certainly not with this. Such information could be used to exploit the other.

 

 _Interesting…._ Mark briefly mused as he stepped into the car.

 

Xxxxxxxx

 

Michael rubbed his eyes as he compared both blood samples and read through the analysis. “It’s bizarre.” He said finally.

 

“To what end?” John asked.

 

“They’re emitting this hormone that regulates some of their major systems. Respiratory, nervous system, circulatory….the hormone, considering it’s derived near the thyroid, I named it HPT-1,  hypothalamic, pituitary, thyroid…” He repeated the acronym quickly. “However something is inhibiting the hormone receptor intermediaries and stopping platelet aggregation.”

 

“And that something?” Mark asked. “What about their chemical panel?”

 

“Nothing unusual although you said both girls were consuming high amounts of alcohol.”

 

“We presume.” John said dryly. “Considering we found them in a bar having one shot after another of whiskey.”

 

“Well, that is strange since the percentage of ethanol in their blood stream was very minute. Nova’s was hardly detectable and…” He frowned.

 

“And?” Mark asked.

 

“Both their DNA seem to be in a state in genetic flux. When I last checked Nova, however, the amount of alien DNA replication was steady at twenty five percent but now it’s….it’s increasing.”

 

“Increasing?” John repeated. He looked at Michael. “You believe there was a precipitating event to trigger her sudden mutation.”

 

Michael winced at the word, looking down at the results. “Yes, I believe so. Likely recent in nature.” He sighed.

 

“What treatment course are you proposing to use given the situation at hand?” Mark said. Indeed, Nova’s case was a curiosity but they had an urgent situation at hand.

 

“Anticoagulants and I’m also giving them a course of triglycerides.” He said. “It’s a theory but I have seen results in using a complex mixture of individual triglycerides to combat anti-platelet effects in some late stage leukemia patients.” He grimaced. “We’ll simply have to wait and see.” He detested waiting and he was the medical professional. He only fathomed by their expressions that both John and Mark loathed it more than he did. But at the moment, their feelings weren’t his primary concern. He proceeded out of the office to check both of his patients in the room they were being monitored in.

 

Before he completely left the room, he looked over at the two. “Get me the bottle of alcohol they were drinking from. I’ll run it through the mass-spec and see if there is anything unusual.”

 

“What are you saying, doctor?”

 

“that either something was introduced to their system by themselves, or they were drugged unknowingly. Liquid is usually a fast reactionary device.” Michael left again.

 

The two gave each other glances, both of their minds on exactly the same thing. And it wasn’t the alcohol. Mark pulled out his phone and began to give strict orders to the security force.

 

Xxxxxxxxxx

 

Michael looked up as John handed him three containers. One was a whiskey bottle, almost gone. The other two were generic water bottles. One of them was almost full, the other almost empty. Someone had put masking tape on each bottle, drawing a ‘N’ on the almost-empty and a ‘S’ on the almost-full. “Put these through the G.C. Mass Spectrometer, Dr. Freeman. The compound that has done this will hopefully show up within.”

 

As the good doctor began to do just that, he voiced his thoughts. “You wouldn’t have given the girls water that hadn’t been sealed.”

 

“Nor did we. They received the bottles through an EMT at the scene. He has already been picked up. Based on what you tell me will indicate which questions to ask him. However, it is not too difficult to unseal the bottle, strip it of the cap, insert what is desired, and then simply cap it with a new lid.” John recited. He had tried it himself less than half an hour previous, just to see if it was possible. He was almost frightened at how simple it really was.

 

“Should be done in a few minutes.” Michael said quietly. A very tense, very quiet 2.13 minutes later, the mass-spec beeped and the doctor brought the results up on the computer terminal. He blinked at it several times. “What?”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing. That’s the problem. The alcohol is perfectly normal barley-based whiskey. The water bottles though…they both have a concentration of 1.5% of acetylsalicylic acid.” Michael said in disbelief.

 

John blinked at him. “Aspirin? _Aspirin_ did this to them?!” The disbelief and shock was clear on his face. He pulled out his mobile and spoke to his brother the situation.

 

Michael was close enough to hear the response. First was the same reaction as John’s, then a contemplative silence. “It is no wonder Mr. Doe never told us of such a weakness. That substance has been around for over a thousand years and is profoundly common. If such a concentration makes the girls, who are not even half of his cellular processes, react so negatively… We barely were able to react in time to save their lives.”

 

“there is something else to consider,” Michael said gravely. John blinked at him and pushed the button for speaker-phone. He nodded for the doctor to go ahead. “What if this wasn’t just a prank? Someone thinking that aspirin in the water would help with their hangover?”

 

“There is no doubt that it was deliberate.”

 

“That’s not what I mean. What if they…whoever ‘they’ are…did this deliberately, trying to find out just how much alike the girls are too Mr. Doe?” Michael expressed with a gesture of his hands. “The bonfire incident exposed Ms. Thomas’ healing ability. This gives the culprits a very specific weakness they _both_ carry. Someone, and I don’t think it’s whoever made the girls for those people would already know about this rather large biological failing, is trying to see how much the girls are biologically similar to Mr. Doe.”

 

“They would already need to know about this weakness Mr. Doe has in such a case.”

 

“True. So the list should be short.” Michael nodded. “Who would make that list?”

 

“Some of his former companions perhaps. But he never takes any that are not trustworthy. His screening process is even better than ours at finding such individuals. They would never tell if they knew.” John suggested thoughtfully.

 

“Sladen and Barrowman live in the area. I’ll have them picked up” Mark intoned.

 

“It could still be a coincidence.” Michael was thinking aloud at this point. “The bonfire incident caused by a completely different group. The girls seemed very sure that those were after the two of you and not them. They were simply convenient. However, the bonfire alerted whomever is behind the aspirin of the possibility, and this was their confirmation.”

 

“If they already know about such a large vulnerability…then what do they want the girls for?” That rather frightening unknown burrowed into their minds. It was extremely difficult to protect their charges if they didn’t know from whom they were protecting them, but also for an unknown reason. It didn’t make sense.

 

“The girls must have something else that this character wants. Some information or ability they are looking for.”

 

“Then how would the allergy help them confirm this?”

 

“Unknown. I’ll call back after I’ve…spoken with the EMT, Barrowman, and Sladen. Hopefully, we will have answers soon.” Mark intoned and the phone disconnected.

 

Michael heaved himself up. “I’ll go check on the girls.”

 

John watched the man leave, wondering how bad this situation truly was, and how much trouble they would be in with Mr. Doe when the off-worlder found out.

 

Xxxxxxxxxx

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

**Chapter 08**

 

Elizabeth Sladen or Liz as her friends on world and off were apt to call her, was slightly impatient with the interview. After all she was a reporter herself having worked from the time of print journalism to the more coveted, television journalism, while doing some social media news editorials as contracted through the BBC. That was why she had stepped into the open casting call to meet Nova in particular and took that single photograph of the timeline. Some of it was coded so it made sense to that particular author.  When she read Nova Morganson’s biography, she was impressed to see that not only was she an adept writing but had her Masters in mathematics, in particular Actuarial Science from the University of Utah.

 

But she kept her conversation and the timeline she saw in secrecy, not even telling her son. She filed the photo away, realizing that with the Doctor, were he to drop by, he couldn’t be privy to all information if just part of what Nova’s timeline was accurate. Although he kept in the occasional contact through means of e-mail although she hadn’t met his newest companion since his previous one had ‘died’.

 

 _She asked me if I should still travel with him and I said yes._ Elizabeth swallowed. _Because she would regret it if she didn’t._

 

Perhaps she harbored a mild jealousy before but she never desired that particular tragic outcome that blighted Canary Wharf, killing hundreds the day of the inter-dimensional invasion.

 

Now, she had been contacted and picked up by the agents the Doctor had agreed were adept at keeping to particulars in management of the Earth regarding the terms were never violated. She thought it a necessary evil and the one or two times prior she had to speak with them were not highlights of her day….or year.

 

“You are aware we instituted a particular security measure in our contract to assure protection for Ms. Morganson and Ms. Thomas considering the nature of their circumstances.” It was John Altamont conducting this interrogation. Elizabeth felt it was fortunate that Tommy and Chloe were currently at school.

 

“I do happen to watch the telly and work with the BBC.” She paused. “Although I chose not to cover Professor Litvak’s research demonstration. A family conflict.”

 

“A family conflict?” He raised his eyebrows.

 

“Yes. I promised Saturday nights to my children. Besides, from what I saw, I think it was beneficial I wasn’t there.”

 

“But you have met Ms. Morganson before. You stopped by during her casting call.” He stated simply.

 

“In passing. I didn’t attempt to audition. I was only curious to see who she was. Her books are quite brilliant, wouldn’t you say?” She paused. “Still, I didn’t ask to do a screen test for Sarah Jane Smith unlike…” She shrugged. “I still have my journalistic integrity.”

 

John paused at this accusation. “It was the best means to conduct an evaluation.”

 

“By doing a screen test for the role as yourself?” Elizabeth snorted. “’Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.’” She at that point quoted Shakespeare. “I’m certain Ms. Thomas was very impressed.”

 

It was time to get to the heart of the matter. “Our prior actions at this stage are of little relevance. Ms. Thomas and Ms. Morganson are recovering from a particular attack that seems to expose a prominent light on a weakness. It is likely it is one shared by Mr. Doe or the Doctor as you know him to be.”

 

“Attack.” Elizabeth swallowed, immediately concerned. “Are they alright?” She now wondered whether she should contact the Doctor now. It didn’t seem he was privy to the knowledge concerning the two women under these men’s protection. _They said recovering…_ ”What happened?” She demanded.

 

John simply gave a smile, seeing as control of the conversation had been redirected back to him. “A relatively common substance to which appeared to prove toxic to them. Tell me, Ms. Sladen, in your experience with Mr. Doe, has he confessed any degree of weakness to a common substance available on this planet?”

 

Having been the longest term companion of the Doctor, she had known of his fatal allergy to aspirin. Of course she did. But the fact was, if Mr. Altamont was asking her, that meant the Doctor chose not to confide in them. _But if the two girls were exposed with it…._ She knew that even touch contact with aspirin by a Time Lord could have severe consequences. She bit her lip and closed her eyes before looking at the digital clock on the nightstand by the couch before coming to a decision.

 

“I will answer your question under one condition.” She managed.

 

“Which is?” John asked.

 

“I wish to see them first and the lab work. If…it is in agreement, I will tell you along with the counteragent that works to detox the system.” Perhaps the Doctor at the time was right in not sharing the information but in long term, he hadn’t considered there would be two girls put under these individuals’ care.

 

And often, people don’t think twice about offering aspirin as a remedy for any sort of malady.

 

John only stared at her in complete concentration before nodding. “Agreed.” He glanced down at his phone with a slight grimace. “This will be an event. Mr. Barrowman has also insisted upon his presence with our two guests.”

 

“It’s been a long time.” Elizabeth said, thinking of John Barrowmen. He had been a companion of the Doctor’s and for a day or two at a time, there was no extreme physical reaction after the incident in the future satellite station. But then, inexplicably, the Doctor would develop flu like symptoms. Headaches. Nausea. She might compare it to an excruciating migraine. It was utterly painful for the Doctor to be in Barrowmen’s presence for long durations of time.

 

It was a pity. The two were friends. The Doctor respected him but there was little else he could do but take the action to try to ensure Barrowmen’s protection through the brothers should he ever need it.

 

Given the girls’ nature, she wondered what their reaction would be to Barrowmen if they indeed had the similar aspirin sensitivity.

 

 _But a part of them is still human._ She thought. They weren’t quite like the Doctor. Their eyes for one thing were still so young. She paused.

 

“You’re not afraid of…exposure?” She stated delicately to Mr. Altamont.

 

“At this point, no. Sara’s biology is more unusual. They adapt her DNA to the environment or necessity such as camouflage. Nova by some extension has picked up some of this unusual trend. At any rate, both your presences with our guests will be observed in case of an unpredicted reaction.”

 

They started their venture to the Clinic where John ordered all the glass in the backseat of the car to be darkened to a degree, Elizabeth could not detail the journey. The Clinic was still secret after all.

 

His mobile emitted a buzz and he let out a breath at the message he received. Both Sara and Nova were starting to wake. The treatment method that Michael had used seemed to be a successful strategy.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 

“John!” Liz exclaimed as she caught sight of her friend.

 

The man turned around, his face lighting up as he recognized her instantly. When she came up to him, he grabbed her in a hug and twirled her around. “Lizzie! It’s great to see you! How long has it been?”

 

She laughed and pulled away. “At least a year or more. Not since that thing at Grayhaven School. How have you been?”

 

“Good. Getting the Lighthouse group together has been a headache and a half.”

 

She gave a rueful smile. “We do seem to cross paths at the most awkward of times.”

 

His face turned more serious. “True.” They looked over at the two men watching their interaction with extreme interest. “Alright fellas. What’s this about two girls with an aspirin allergy? Let’s see what you’ve found.”

 

“And why you haven’t contacted the Doctor yet.” Liz put in, as direct as any reporter.

 

John Altamont sighed and gestured them into a room, where Dr. Michael Freeman was already waiting with all the lab reports and papers. “At first, it was simply because the girls seemed to view your Doctor with the same level of hesitancy as I myself. There wasn’t a severe enough reason to bother him with something we could take care of.”

 

“And now?” she raised a sardonic eyebrow.

 

“He is currently…irate at us for not having a better psychological screening process of our scientists.”

 

Both former companions snorted their amusement and derision. “Oh, I just bet he is.”

 

Michael butted in before something could be said that could possibly destroy a few lives…or countries. “Here are the initial scans of both girls, right after the bonfire incident. Simple blood-ox and tox panel to start.” He handed the paperwork to each; Nova’s to Barrowman and Sara’s to Sladen.

 

Barrowman’s eyebrows rose, as did Liz’s. “Their oxygen saturation levels are off the charts!”

 

“Yes. But other things that should be high after such an incident aren’t. So, I ordered a DNA analysis of each. Doing it myself, and triple-checking to be sure when I got the results.” Michael handed them the next set of papers. “At first I thought it was something simple: a bad flu immunization, lupus, or even an immune disorder. All of which could cause something similar to the effects on the tox panel. Then…I got the results of their DNA analysis.”

 

The companions couldn’t help but stare at the paperwork in their hands. Wordlessly, they switched papers midway through so that both of them could see everything. “My God…” John breathed in horror.

 

“Exactly. The most logical explanation I can come up with is that some organization found a sample of Mr. Doe’s,” at their blank look he explained with a blush, “I call him that in all my work, research, and files on the off chance of hacking.” They nodded, approving of the precaution. “Anyway, someone found a sample of his DNA years ago and have been trying to… _breed_ …a version of him. Considering Nova has 25% naturally, the experiment has been going on for at least 60 years, probably longer.”

 

“And Sara?” Liz asked, her voice tight with emotion.

 

“Already an adult when the experiments occurred. Perhaps in the last decade or so. Neither girl acts as if they were anything but a normal girl. So neither have any idea what has been done to them.”

 

“Considering what they’ve been through the last few days, it’s probably not the best time to tell them.” Barrowman voiced his opinion. His mind was filled with what he wanted to do to the people who could do something so despicable to unsuspecting children. He had lived so long it was difficult not to see those around him as anything other than children. “And now someone has confirmed they both have an aspirin allergy.”

 

“Correct. We wanted to know if that was part of Mr. Doe’s biology or perhaps something naturally occurring within their own.” Michael tried to delicately ask.

 

John and Liz exchanged knowing, speaking looks. Finally, they came to a decision and nodded to each other. “We still want to see the girls.”

 

“Of course,” Altamont inclined his head. “They are awake now. Don’t expect much of a conversation. We had to intubate them both when they stopped breathing.” As he proceeded them down the hall, showing the way, the pair exchanged another glance filled with concern and emotion.

 

It was really too bad that the Doctor had long since stopped taking their phone calls. This was one conversation that they _knew_ the Gallifreyan would want to know about. But the man didn’t like goodbyes and hated remembering that his companions would one day grow old and die on him, leaving him alone. He never came back. Never just stopped by. And after only three calls, had stopped answering. Oh, he was overjoyed when he met them in person again, when he couldn’t escape them, but both knew that it was a one-time deal. “John…” Liz whispered, all her heartfelt concern in her voice.

 

“I know.” He whispered back. He was well aware of the far-reaching effects. If what they read was true, it was already so much worse than the brothers could possibly imagine.

 

What they were doing now was the best they could to see to the Doctor’s wishes in his absence. They peeked into the girl's’ room. There was a four-person guard on their door, which both heartily approved of. The girls were awake, but intubated as promised. If it wasn’t for the machines their breathing would be so much worse, if they would be able to breathe at all. Their eyes were filled with fear as well.

 

Michael came to their side instantly. “It’s alright. You’re both safe here. You had an allergic reaction to a substance in the water bottles that the EMT gave you. Mark’s already trying to find out what he can. Hopefully, we’ll be able to take the tubes out in a few hours. Alright? Until then, try to relax.”

 

He gestured to the television above them, handing Sara a remote. “Try to sleep if you can. You have both been through hell in the last couple days. I will keep you here under my purview until you are both back to 100%.” He gave them a sincere smile, trying to help them understand not to worry.

 

Neither girl noticed the two visitors standing in the doorway, and that was the way that Michael wanted to keep it. They said they wanted to see the girls, not speak to them. It was for the best. Lord only knew how the girls would react to some of their characters coming to life again. Their reaction to the brothers had _not_ been all that promising for any future interactions of supposedly fictional characters.

 

Dr. Freeman noticed that Nova was trying to write something, so he gave her a pencil and paper. When he saw the word, he smiled reassuringly. “That’s a very common side-effect from the poison in your system. Nausea, headaches, light sensitivity, noise sensitivity, numbness, dizziness, vertigo, etc. Let the drugs do their work and sleep. Sleep is a lot of the time the best medicine I can prescribe and you are both still deficient from the last time I told you to get some rest.”

 

Sara wiggled her fingers, so he transferred the paper to her. _What was in the water?_ He breathed out, because he didn’t want to answer that. So, he half-answered it. “Acetylsalicylic acid in a 1.5% solution. You had an allergic reaction.” He saw the girls frown in confusion, with a little bit of fear. He patted their hands. “Don’t worry about it right now. Worry about healing. There are guards here. I’m going to step out. Just get some sleep, okay?”

 

He did just that, half closing the curtain to give the girls some privacy, though their feet were still visible. He was not going to let them completely out of his sight after all. Last time that happened they had almost died! But he stepped out and closed the door. “Satisfied?”

 

Lizzie nodded slightly. “Chocolate.”

 

“What?” Michael blinked, wondering if he had a third patient he should be looking after.

 

“The chemical compounds in chocolate work the quickest to erase the aspirin’s effect from their system.” Barrowman explained.

 

“But that isn’t even the worst part, you realize.” Liz said quietly.

 

“What do you mean?” John Altamont asked in confusion. He hated dealing with the Doctor’s companions. They had seen so much that he had no basis to understand and no way to acquire the knowledge either.

 

“You’ve seen the results but haven’t thought it through,” she murmured.

 

When she still got a confused eyebrow in her direction she turned to her friend. “You explain it. I feel sick.” She hurried off to throw up in the privacy of the bathroom. It was absolutely horrible what had happened.

 

John Barrowman sighed as he watched her leave, wishing he had the luxury of being sick himself. When he glimpsed the profoundly irritated expression, he decided to put the men out of their misery. “Human experimentation is against the contract, but you know that. Since you haven’t done it yourselves you have the obligation to find those responsible and shut them down. You know this.” He got nods. “What you haven’t thought of yet is what those girls _are_.”

 

He drew a deep breath. “I travelled with the Doctor for over a year. I know him very well. He will not care that they were human to begin with other than seeing the ones that did it to them brought to justice. What he _will_ care about is that he now has two more connections to his home. And not just that…” he took another deep breath as he looked back into the room where the girls were, “…according to your own Dr. Freeman, those girls are his _granddaughters._ ”

 

John Altamont paled dramatically at what had been right in front of his nose but he had failed to see until it was spelled out in blatant letters. His job had just gotten a thousand times more important to protect those girls. He was silent at this sudden revelation.

 

“I’ve seen their records myself. Very convincing. Social security numbers were issued when Nova Morgansen and Sara Thomas submitted records of their birth certificates. Both parents deceased. The hospital they were born in was shut down due to lack of funding.” He paused. “Nevertheless, their history beyond five years is only on ‘paper’. Sara Thomas and Nova Morgansen both have bachelor's degrees from the University of Utah. The administration has confirmed they have that on record yet no one specifically recalls them in either the Marketing and Communications department for Sara or the Mathematics Department for Nova.” He leaned against the wall. “Now wouldn’t you just find that fishy?”

 

“Of course, which is why we observed and performed intercession at the appropriate time. We know their history or lack thereof.”

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t thought to ask them yet.” Barrowmen knew these two men especially John Altamont. He had an insatiable curiosity and he wondered at the self control it must have taken to regulate himself when he approached the two women. Still, considering how the two first encountered him and initiated him as a beneficiary under their protection, perhaps they had garnered a lesson. He doubted it but couldn’t rule it out.

 

“We were only at the start of establishing a dialogue. Mark thought it a better precedent to wait. Given what occurred last night…” He looked at Barrowmen. “Paternity had not yet been considered since at first blush, Michael conveyed they shared similar DNA patterns of Mr. Doe’s species.”

 

“And then the incident with the aspirin and their toxicity.” Barrowmen concluded.

 

“We are currently investigating and have closed down Canary Wharf to interrogate every possible lead, beginning with the paramedics and those at the reception itself.”

 

“Upon the Doctor’s next arrival, he should be informed of the girl’s identities.” That was going to be a difficult conversation and Barrowmen knew it, which was what motivated his next decision. “My team at Lighthouse and I will assist you in your efforts to uphold the contingency of the contract.” It was his planet too after all and he wasn’t just doing it for their own surety. The Doctor was his friend and he genuinely cared a great deal about him. It was a matter of no small misery that the two couldn’t travel together. Even though he had been granted a variation of immortality through the incidents aboard Satellite Five, the reaction could not be helped. It took several weeks for the Doctor to show symptoms and then Barrowmen to realize the cause but with no other answer in sight, Barrowmen decided to leave. Shorter visits were fine but any contact of a long duration….he sighed.

 

John was silent in contemplation. It was a bad scenario if ever there was one. He didn’t look forward to that conversation, particularly even if they caught the perpetrators behind the experimentation and poisoning. His mind drifted to the encounter last night with his nameless adversary that kept him delayed for the necessary minutes he needed to keep the girls in the building.

 

“The girls should be informed too.” Barrowmen told them. “They are under your protection. That information should be yielded to them.”

 

“I do not think they’ll have an agreeable reaction.” John paused. “Given what I have come to understand about them and that of human nature.” He considered what Barrowmen was proposing. “Perhaps we should wait.”

 

“Wait for what?” Barrowmen challenged. “Another accident. Toxic exposure? For another clever associate of yours to use mustard gas on them instead?”

 

“Mustard gas is toxic to their species?”

 

Barrowmen sighed. “Given the circumstance, I will tell them.” It was his right. He had no wish to upset the girls by just his presence but from what Mark explained to him, they both knew he existed and on some account spoken favorably of him. It was a start and he thought he had a more welcome personality than these two. He perhaps might even be able to discern a thing or two about the parentage. The Doctor told him that his children had fled to other dimensions before the Time War. A few by happenstance, had simply been trapped on the other side when the void space acted as a near impenetrable barrier for anymore dimensional crossing.

 

But he was in the best position to explain this new development and try to answer questions. He picked up the paper one more time, taking one more look at Sara’s results.

 

 _Strange._ He thought. The Time Lord TNA was there but the rest, her human DNA, which was constantly being altered; he remembered his own tests, the indicators to demonstrate how he could invariably die, his cells renew. There was a similarity in the coding. It was as if she had been exposed to the very same TARDIS energy that kept him from a permanent death. _Far higher amounts too._ He thought as he looked at Nova’s tests. He frowned. Small scale radiation patterns that emulated Sara. Higher quantities than on the previous blood test.

 

“Like some sort of link between the two.” He muttered.

 

“Excuse me?” John asked.

 

Barrowmen shook his head and left the office. There was a discussion to be had. He saw no sense in putting it off. After all, if he could spare them any of the pain he had gone through, then it would be worth it.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

**Chapter 09**

 

The two girls had their intubation tubes removed but their throats remained sore from the procedure. However, when they asked for water or ice chips, by some surprise, they were both brought two small bowls of chocolate ice cream, with dark chocolate pieces drizzled all over it.

 

“I’m confused.” Sara muttered. “Did we just get poisoned and suddenly wake up in a hospital ran by Willie Wonka and his chocolate factory?”

 

“At least it’s cold.” Nova offered, deciding at this point not to begrudge the offering. She put a spoonful of the ice cream in her mouth but Sara stared at the bowl in hesitation. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

 

Sara merely grimaced but both were startled to hear a voice from the doorway.

 

“Oh, it may not be gourmet but it still has its merits. It’s ice cream after all.” Barrowmen slowly entered the room seeing both their eyes widen at his appearance. He was cautious and slow in his approach just in case of panic but to his relief, Sara gave a faint smile.

 

“Jack.” She muttered, looking at the man before considering his presence here. “They’re not putting you under protective confinement too, right?”

 

“It’s John actually. John Barrowmen. And no, I can take care of myself.”

 

“Ah, now that’s what I said.” Sara glanced at Nova in satisfaction.

 

“And I offered my assistance.” He took a seat in the chair just between their beds, glancing at Nova who was briefly rubbing her forehead and then back at Sara who still hadn’t touched her ice cream. Even though Dr. Freeman had given them the triglycerides found in chocolate, it was better to approach this at every angle including consumption and digestion of the product itself.

 

“You going to eat that?” He prompted and Sara sighed.

 

“Honestly, I don’t like ice cream. I’m not a fan of sugar and…” She shrugged.

 

“It’s a pain to find a dessert we both could enjoy.” Nova muttered, thinking of all the hit and misses she had with Sara and sweets.

 

“We would still like you to have a few bites.” Barrowmen said. “The chocolate does help.”

 

“Against what?” Sara asked. “Dementors?” She referenced Harry Potter and the lingering after effects the soul suckers from those books had caused by just their mere presence. “We haven’t met one, I promise.”

 

Barrowmen chuckled. Harry Potter. He wondered if JK Rowling had any sort of intuition to the many creatures from various planets she had been unlikely to lay eyes upon. “No, not dementors. Aspirin. Both your biology has undergone a significant change and we are only able to project back five years but....some of your biology, your DNA isn’t human. There is a triple helix DNA marker but generally I call it-“

 

“TNA.” Nova realized, her ice cream suddenly forgotten as Sara’s face had suddenly paled.

 

“Yes, exactly. TNA.” He was amazed. How Nova knew that, he would love to know. “You see, we have all seen your birth certificates. I know you both believe you don’t have any living relations but your TNA markers actually indicate a pattern. There are 17 repetitions for just one chromosome in the same position alone when I compared it to…..well, our mutual friend.”

 

“And that means?” Sara asked, wanting him to get straight to the point. “You’re talking about the Doctor. What does it mean?”

 

“He is your paternal grandfather.” He said simply. “And I know he’ll love….” He saw Sara’s expression. Suddenly she was hyperventilating and then shaking her head.

 

“No!” She exclaimed. “You can’t tell him!” She told Barrowmen as tears came to her eyes. “Please, please, please don’t tell him.” She had spent the last five years hearing every single moment of Nova’s dreams. She knew the shows too. She knew the Time Lord Victorious and Valeyard were all distinct possibilities. Nova was barely able to type out the word Valeyard. She couldn’t say the word at all; as if vocalizing it would summon his presence. She knew about the Final Action and the Final Sanction. She had also briefly seen the real Doctor’s face and his eyes……far more ancient and older than she could even grasp or think. “Anything you want.” She told Barrowmen. “I’ll tell you anything but please don’t tell him! We can’t! Not after…!”

 

“What in blazes is going on?” Dr. Freeman had entered the room, followed by John and Mark.

 

“Please don’t hand us off to the Doctor!” Sara was shaking. “I….you….you don’t know what he’s capable of. Look, I’m sorry. We’re sorry for running off from the reception but please…” She was shaking hard as Nova’s stomach was churning in dread. Her head was whirling. All the multiple scenarios. And she knew why Sara would be downright terrified of the Doctor. She had admitted to not being a true fan of the television shows but when her friends had her watch them, she felt a disturbing draw to them despite the fact she detested many aspects of science fiction.

 

 _Our grandfather._ Nova thought in wonder. Was that why she dreamed of him so consistently and so often? She looked over at Sara and as she watched her reaction, realized the other half of the scenario. The possible horror of being even remotely related to the Doctor. Well, the Doctor was fine. It was the Time Lord Victorious or the V— _Him_ that was terrifying. Quietly, she voiced her agreement. “It would be best if this information was kept from him.”

 

“No kidding! If he finds out…!” Sara shivered violently. “We swear we won’t run anymore. We’ll behave and won’t complain. Just don’t tell him!”

 

“He won’t hurt you.” Barrowman tried to sooth them both. “He’s your grandfather, he’d never let you get hurt.”

 

The girls turned disbelieving eyes to him. “I thought you were smarter than that. Don’t you know who he _is_?”

 

“He’s the Doctor.” John Barrowman said simply, amazed at this odd reaction. He’d never seen anyone that was actually afraid of the Doctor. Well, no one that wasn’t doing something they knew they shouldn’t.

 

Nova breathed out and she looked over at Sara. “I think it’s time we tell them.” The brothers tensed. “They won’t understand why we’re afraid without an explanation.”

 

Sara snorted. “They won’t believe us. It’s why we haven’t said so to begin with. Among other things.”

 

“Do you have a better idea?”

 

“Yeah. Eat the sickeningly sweet ice cream.”

 

“Chocolate should help with your detox from the poison.”

 

Nova blinked at that. She only knew of one thing that chocolate would help. She paused. “Aspirin? Someone gave us aspirin?” she whispered. Barrowman was shocked that she would know such things. How could she?

 

Sara was confused. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Gallifreyans have a toxic allergy to aspirin. If it's caught soon enough, they can cure some of the effects with chocolate.” Nova recited. “I think he ran into someone trying to poison him with chocolate when he was with Sarah Jane.” She thought for several moments, trying to remember.

 

“Who poisoned him?”

 

“Can’t remember. But I doubt that whoever did it is still around.”

 

“Okay ladies. I’m confused. How do you know these things?” Barrowman asked softly. “I promise to believe whatever it is.” _Please. Trust me._

 

Nova sighed and leaned back against the pillows. Her throat was still sore, so she obediently ate the chocolate ice cream. She hated chocolate…except for three days a month. Either that or she was picky about which types of chocolate she ate. When she was halfway done, she admitted she did feel a little bit better. She gave a great sigh. It was all the confirmation she needed for the validity of the men’s words. “Eat the ice cream, Sara. I already feel a little better. Less nauseated.”

 

Sara, with incredible reluctance, began to nibble on the ice cream. She made a very interesting face while doing so, which made those watching try to hide their grins of amusement.

 

As Nova watched her, she took a deep breath. “I’ve been…dreaming about the Doctor for as long as I can remember. I’ve never dreamed about anything or anyone else. He’s always there. Every time I close my eyes. I’ve seen him do things. I’ve _watched_ …” she shivered violently, suddenly sick as she once again was unable to keep the images of the Scary Doctor out of her mind.

 

“It was my idea to use her dreams as a way to make money. We spent months searching for any evidence that he was actually real and not just someone she had made up. When we didn’t find anything, we went ahead and published.” Sara put in, already feeling mildly better from the ice cream. Even though she hated the sickeningly sweet taste, it was technically medicine and medicine wasn’t supposed to taste good anyway. She would force it down. “When they were so popular that Nova could stop her interim work, I introduced the idea of writing about Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.” She didn’t mention how she knew about them. Let them come to their own conclusions. “We never thought any of it was _real_.”

 

“If we had, we wouldn’t have written any of it down.” Nova pressed her agreement.

 

John Barrowman was getting a very good idea of how the girls knew of things. But he wanted to know exactly why. “What did you see him do that makes you so afraid?” he asked quietly.

 

Nova shivered. “I saw…so many things. Most of them are wonderful. Beautiful. Brilliant. Exciting. But every now and then…there’s the Time War. Gallifrey _burned_. _He_ burned it. He’s committed genocide so many times.” Her face was full of pain and compassion.

 

“To save _trillions_ of people.” He countered softly. “Time and space and planets.”

 

“I know. I saw what the Daleks did. I heard the screams. The _children_ …” Tears welled up and fell down her cheeks. “Oh Rassilon above, the _children_.” She began to give great heaving sobs as her mind traveled down pathways she usually tried to stay far away from. “Oh God!”

 

Sara thought that was plenty. She shoved the bowl into Altamont’s hands, jumped off the bed and went over to Nova, holding her friend tightly. “Shhh…it’s okay. It’s over.”

 

“But it isn’t.” Nova’s voice was quiet even through the tears. “It’s always happening, because it hasn’t happened yet.”

 

“Shhh…Shhhh…” Sara tried to sooth her. She glared over Nova’s head at the men. “See what you’ve done?”

 

“What does she mean when she says that?” John asked softly.

 

Sara sighed. “I don’t know. She’s been saying it for years, whenever she can’t push the images away. Like now.”

 

“It’s only happened once. It has to happen twice more.” Nova said quietly.

 

“Get some sleep, sweetie. Okay?”

 

“No! Don’t make me sleep!” Nova cried out in fear. She didn’t want to see the images again. Sometimes she couldn’t force herself to wake up.

 

“Okay. Okay. Shhh…just calm down. Okay? Calm down.”

 

“Let’s leave the girls to relax. Finish their ice cream.” Barrowman suggested and practically shoved the brothers out of the room. When the door was closed and the guards stationed again. Finally his shoulders slumped a little. “Nova definitely has some traits of the Time Lords. Talking about time not happening yet. The bit about it happening three times is new though. We can ask the Doctor when he shows back up. Or…you could call him.” He suggested with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Let’s not until we have some good news to tell him. Catch the ones who’ve done this to his relatives to start with. Created him relatives. The ones behind the bonfire and the aspirin.” John Altamont shook his head. He _really_ didn’t want to tell the off-worlder anything bad without being able to also give good news.

 

“It’s possible they, whoever ‘they’ are, divided up different parts of the Doctor’s TNA to give to the girls. Sara seems to have more of his healing ability while Nova has more of his ability to sense time.” Barrowman said absently.

 

“Though Nova seems to be developing it a bit.” Michael said as he joined them. “Do _not_ upset the girls like that again. Or I will be _cross_.” He threatened severely. His eyes were hard with steel. Hard enough that the man believed him.

 

“Understood.”

 

“Good. Now…how are you going to find those that have done this to those girls?”

 

“Interrogations from Canary Wharf have yielded few results.” John said. “We will give them time to recuperate and then continue the progression at the studio.”

 

“You’re going to continue with the production of the show.”

 

“Of course.” John nodded. “It is likely that whomever made this attempt will likely try to re-engage the girls again. To that end, BBC has the most opportunity. We can observe and wait for any such person to get close.”

 

“Then I must secure a position on the set.” Barrowmen acceded.

 

“Do you intend to audition for the role of yourself? I have to say that Nova is considering having you play your role.”

 

“And that would be a mistake.” Barrowmen said. “You aren’t the slightest bit like me. No amount of acting would assist in that effort.” He paused. “But no, I have a range of other talents to equip myself with.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll offer to be their technical advisor.”

 

He took a glance at the window as Dr. Freeman was seeing to his patients. The next few weeks might prove to be lengthy in this very game of bait and switch.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

One month later saw the girls both back on the sets as pre production started with read throughs for the cast assigned to both shows.

 

Sara’s went first. Her cast had been completed and the script polished. Nova was still lingering on some of the nuances with the Doctor Chronicles so when Sara asked her to sit and watch just the initial read throughs, she did agree. At least her security blended into the background when there were several other actors in the room.

 

She sighed. Daniel Gilles was rather stiff when he was reading his lines. It wasn’t that he didn’t read them well but she wanted the more relaxed, casual composure she had seen of him from Saving Hope. Not the stiff sophisticate she witnessed in The Vampire Diaries who couldn’t bear to get his hands dirty.

 

“Daniel….” Sara started. “Remember, John Watson is more laid back. Down to earth. He cares about people. He’s the mirror character for Sherlock. The opposite. That’s how the two of them establish balance, which makes their friendship work.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Let’s try this again. From Sherlock, ‘What is it Afghanistan?’” She glanced at John who nodded, looking down at the script.

 

“What is it Afghanistan or Iraq?” John said quickly.

 

Gilles performance improved slightly. “Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know…?”

 

“Ah Molly, coffee. Thank you.”

 

And so it went on for several hours. A tedious venture before they took a break for lunch.

 

That was also when Nova had invited her to see the exterior for the TARDIS the set up crew was erecting. In order to keep the details slightly different, she changed the color of the exterior of the ship from a light shade of blue to pleasant color of forest green. Sara nodded her approval.

 

“It really looks good, Nova.” Sara smiled. “I’m impressed. What room holds the interior?”

 

“Oh, that is studio C.” Again here, she went for a burnt red color and was also pleased with the result. They went on to mutter about technicalities. How the library would be featured, the swimming pool. It was then that Sara insisted the wine cellar should have its passing moment of glory. Nova laughed. It was an ongoing debate between them.

 

“Excuse me, Ms. Thomas, Ms. Morganson?” A man dressed in polo shirt with BBC lettering on the collar stood awkwardly at the door. “Sorry to disturb but Mr. Altamont and Mr. Gatiss requested that I give you both a copy of this message.” He explained.

 

“Of, of course.” Sara felt a bit frazzled. “Did they leave to go out for lunch?” That wasn’t unusual. As long as they left their security detail behind, it was often a custom of theirs.

 

“Fifteen minutes ago. This is to notify you regarding the update to your schedules.” The employee stated. Each girl took the envelope before watching the BBC staff member head out the door.

 

“How very exciting.” Sara muttered, setting the note down. As far as she was concerned, it could wait until after she too had eaten. But Nova had already started to open hers. Suddenly, the red head gave a small shriek and tossed the envelope away. A fine white powder scattered all over the floor.

 

“It’s….” Nova look badly shaken. “They…”

 

Sara grasped her shoulders. “Did you touch it? Any physical contact at all?”

 

Slowly Nova shook her head and Sara smiled in relief, giving her a quick embrace before pushing the silent alert button they both now habitually carried. Her mobile rang almost instantly afterward.

 

“Yes, hello. Right. Another attempt to poison us by messenger. Appeared to be a BBC employee. Mid forties, light brown hair, brown eyes.” She paused. “No, we’ll head back to my office and stay right there until the alert has been lifted.” Quietly, she hung up the phone going back over to her friend to guide her back to the office. “It’s okay. Nothing happened. You saw what it was. Jack is on the way to keep us company.” Even though his name was John, both girls thought that was confusing. After all, they were already in habit of calling John Altamont, John. Barrowmen didn’t appear to mind being called Jack.

 

“Come on, I’ll let you beat me at chess to make you feel better.”

 

“I always beat you at chest.” Nova said as a faint smile came to her lips.

 

“Exactly. See what a good friend I am.” They stepped through the threshold as Sara prepared the kettle for a pot of tea. Nova could well do the act herself but Sara always thought it was her contribution. “Chocolate?” She held out a bag of Swiss chocolate powder. “A cure for what ails you.”

 

“You know me too well.” Nova told her.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The security detail was already taking this new attempt in paranoid stride. A female on each of their teams decided to take it upon herself to _never_ leave them alone. Not even for bathroom breaks. It was irritating, tedious, and nerve-wracking…but compared to the alternative that almost happened, the girls dealt with it mostly in silence.

 

The BBC employee was located, a cellphone picture confirmed identity with the girls, and then they were left alone with their security in the office for an hour and a half.

 

Nova cried out in victory an hour in. “Ha! I got him!” she gave a little dance in her happiness.

 

“Who?” Sara asked. She saw the security relax as they realize that the little scream was not one that indicated pain or fear. “And stop scaring the detail. They’re high enough strung as it is.”

 

“Sorry,” Nova said sheepishly to the two guards. One gave her a small shrug, the other a tiny smile so that she knew they didn’t hold it against her. “But I got Hugh Dancy!”

 

“Seriously? I thought that he wasn’t able to because of his obligations to _Hannibal_.” Sara raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

 

“Apparently they are crippling his character and won’t be showing up nearly as much. So he’ll be free to play Nine. I’m so excited!” The redhead did another little dance. “He plays odd geniuses so well! He’s flying in and will be here by tomorrow to begin the readings. Mwhahahaha!”

 

They couldn’t help it. Sara and the guards burst out laughing at the ecstatic antics of the other occupant. “I’m so glad, Nova. That’s wonderful news.”

 

It was at this point that John and Jack came through the door. They all paused. “What’s the good news?” When it was quickly explained to them, John frowned. He seemed to take a second, then came to a decision. “You will not be left alone with him.”

 

“What?” Nova was confused. “But I will need to tell him some things without others overhearing…”

 

“You will _not_ be with him alone.” He said quite firmly. “Your guards are already sworn to secrecy. But I find it very suspicious that someone you obviously wanted for the role turned you down only to now change their mind. It’s suspicious.”

 

Nova reluctantly nodded her acquiescence, but wanted to change the subject. “How did it go with the employee?”

 

Jack sighed. “Nowhere. He gave a description of the man that gave him the envelopes, but didn’t know anything himself. Apparently he was acting so nervous because he was a fan of your work.”

 

“Mark is running down the CCTV cameras of the unidentified male. Should have an identity soon of this new assassin.” John said calmly.

 

“I don’t think it was.” Nova interjected softly. It was almost like she almost didn’t want to bring the subject up.

 

“Huh?” Sara asked. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Well…it was a powder form. Right?”

 

“Confirmed. Powdered acetylsalicylic acid was in both envelopes.” John stated matter-of-factly, wondering what could possibly be going through the girl’s head.

 

“While skin contact does cause some symptoms, it wouldn’t kill us unless we had a lot of surface area covered. If they wanted to do it that way, they should have picked a windy day or something so we would inhale it.” Nova tried to explain her reasoning. “Inhalation or ingestion are the best methodologies to use aspirin to kill us. Otherwise, we’d get sick, but we wouldn’t die. At least, not fast enough that help couldn’t get to us.” Part of the position of their guard detail was that every one of them now carried with them chocolate, an epi pen, and adrenaline, to inject into the girls if they collapsed from poisoning.

 

“The first time was more like this person was confirming we had the allergy to begin with. Otherwise, why do it in a parking lot crawling with ambulances and medical professionals. And Dr. Freeman was able to get to us really quickly. This time…” she paused as she tried to think about the situation from a criminal’s viewpoint, “…I think they were testing our security teams and the procedures you implemented to keep us safe from attacks. Whoever this is, they aren’t trying to kill us…not really.” She stopped there, wondering how those in the room would take her analysis.

 

Jack had been working with the girls, seeing them every day, for a little over a month. While definitely naïve about certain things, they were also frighteningly accurate about others. Usually things they shouldn’t know about to begin with. He had also learned that if the girls were questioned in a specific way, they tended to be more open about answering. So, he adopted a curious, light tone as he asked, “Who would go to such lengths, do you think?”

 

Sara and Nova exchanged glances as they apparently tried to reason out the answer between the pair of them. “Moriarty would be an obvious option. He’s obsessed with Sherlock. Since John’s showed so much interest in us, Moriarty might think it worth the risk to see how much we mean to him.”

 

Nova nodded. Her own mind working through the possibilities on her end. “Most of the Doctor’s enemies aren’t capable of being subtle like this. Daleks and Cybermen are much more direct. So are Sontarans and most others.” She pondered. “The Time Agency I can see doing it.” Jack’s eyebrows hit his hairline at that suggestion, but he didn’t interrupt. “They are subtle by design. They like the Doctor a lot, but may see us as a threat for another reason.” She frowned as she tried to think of more. “Everyone else I can think of are dead…I think they’re dead.”

 

“Tell us anyway.” John ordered.

 

His aggressive tone ended the relaxed back-and-forth the girls had adopted. Nova’s eyes looked down as if embarrassed. Hesitantly, she answered. “Rassilon. And the Master. They both hate the Doctor…but they’re dead!” she hastened to reassure the gentlemen.

 

Jack and John both nodded their understanding. All things considered, there were still too many possibilities. They never had gotten around to telling the girls that they had been experimented upon. Those still-unknown groups were also near the top of the list. “We’ll look into things.”

 

“Until then…enjoy your Hugh Dancy.”

 

The next day, Nova was doing exactly that. Even the security detail shadows couldn’t curb her excitement at having her top pick agree to play the Doctor. He had been excellent as William Graham in _Hannibal_ and Adam Raki in _Adam_. He was quite good at playing the sorts of roles she wanted him. She was in the middle of explaining to him, after he had signed a nondisclosure agreement to not even tell the fellow cast members, details concerning the Doctor’s past. “…he really didn’t see any other choice. So, to save the universe and everyone in it across all of time and space, he used the Moment to end both races at the same time.”

 

Hugh was listening intently, soaking up the information with the attitude of a professional. He even asked the occasional question. “Why didn’t he just kill himself afterward?”

 

“Well, the Moment has a type of AI consciousness with its own conscience. It decided that if he was really committed to doing this, that the price was for him to live.”

 

“Why?” he asked in surprise.

 

Nova’s smile was sad. “Because the Doctor didn’t want to. He had no desire to outlive his people. Living is his penance.”

 

Hugh nodded thoughtfully. It was part of his job to gather in all these little details, so that he was better able to portray the character. The research he had done for his Wil Graham had taken several hours for him to get into the correct mindset. This was no different, but had to be done in a shorter time period. Thoughtfully, he murmured, “He didn’t survive the war, then. He’s only alive to try and find a way to make up for what he did.”

 

She nodded. “Especially in the beginning. Then Rose comes into the mix and starts to tell him that he had no choice. It was the only way. She makes him _want_ to live again. But she’s human, so he knows the consequences of being in a relationship with a human.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Well, the biggest is that he’ll live for centuries. Her lifespan is just a long nap in comparison to his own. It’s quite sad really. They fall in love with each other, but neither _do_ anything about it because they’re both scared. It isn’t until the end that they even admit such things.”

 

He nodded again as he absorbed the small details. He had a good idea of how he was going to try to act now. “Alright. I think that’s enough for now…” he froze as an odd feeling crept through his mind. Almost like he was drowning, being pulled under waves by a strong current. A ruffle of the last two hours, when he was with Nova, of his memories flashing across the inside of his eyelids. Then, he heard his voice say something that he had no plan on asking. “What about other Time Lords that escaped the war? Didn’t the Doctor go looking for them?”

 

Nova frowned slightly, her eyes glancing at her guard who had also tensed. There was something…something had changed in the last couple minutes. She didn’t know what it was. Everything seemed exactly the same, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Not knowing what else to do, she answered, “The ones that had left escaped into different dimensions for the most part. During the war, the walls between universes were sealed. They can’t come back. And the Doctor can’t go to them. The only other way they could hide is the Chameleon Arch, which also hides the mind of a Time Lord. He’d have no way of knowing they survived at all, let alone where to find them or start looking.”

 

“I see.” Dancy heard himself say. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity.” Another second and the ocean pull left him. As it left however, the memory of the feeling of the current and that anything unusual was wrong left with it. He blinked and shook his head slightly as his thoughts realigned. Trying to cover up his faux-pas, he said, “So, are we ready to have the reading?”

 

Nova slowly nodded. Whatever had happened was gone as quickly as it had come. But what exactly had happened? “Yes. Let’s go.” Suddenly, she was quite glad that John had given the order for her not to be alone with him. She had a feeling that if she _had_ been alone, something much worse than a simple feeling may have occurred.

 

Sara only stepped in after the reading had been completed to meet the actor Nova had been so thrilled with acquiring. Her eyes lit up with some recognition. “The Earl of Essex.” She said. “With Helen Mirren.”

 

“You’ve seen Elizabeth I.” Fancy said. It was prior to a great many of his other films and of course Hannibal. “Are you a fan of history? Or is it period pieces?”

 

Sara chuckled briefly, glancing back at John who was observing the display. “You have no idea.” She was thinking of Sir Conan Doyle who was inspired by the idea for Sherlock by the tales of Edgar Allen Poe, an inspector who detailed his work in forensics and a mortician. “So, you’re going to be our ninth Doctor. Hmm…” She paused to do a critical analysis, thinking of Christopher Eccleston. “I can see it. You could definitely pull off leather.”

 

“Sara!” Nova admonished. “We haven’t gone over costume yet.” After the disconcerting event where the actor hadn’t been quite himself, her friend had managed to even make the wardrobe seem scandalous. Sara giggled. At least her friend had been excited about a lead and she had gotten to choose. While Sara ‘decided’ on her lead, it often seemed to be less than an option. At least the co-star was pleasant enough and there was Jack as they were given to call him and he didn’t mind in the least.

 

“It was my understanding you were both writing these books until you diverged into your own interests.” Dancy paused. He felt the strange current overcome him again. As though he weren’t really the one speaking. “Are you related?”

 

Sara glanced at Nova nervously, feeling a slight strain. “Well, we’ve been living together.”

 

“You both smell so….” His voice drifted as he suddenly took Sara’s hand. In the moment she pulled it away, he blinked. “I’m sorry. It must be the jet lag. I’m not quite myself today.”

 

“Perhaps a respite for tonight would work wonders.” John suggested flatly to the man, his instincts or wariness on edge has it had been since this person had been brought on set.

 

“Of course.” Dancy muttered, glancing at John. “Yes, John Altamont. The new lead for Sherlock. I suppose we’ll be seeing much of each other then. BBC studios being a small world as they are.”

 

“I can assure you of that already.” John agreed.

 

“He’s excellent by the way.” Dancy told Sara. “The way he keeps in complete character. I was skeptical too at you deciding on an unknown but he seems to have captured your version of Sherlock very well, in case you had doubts.”

 

“Oh, no doubts.” Sara muttered. “Not really. More often that he would take too much of his work home with him.”

 

When the actor left, John looked at the two girls and back at the actor. “I’m ordering surveillance on him. To follow his movements.”

 

“Of course.” Sara muttered. “We aren’t paranoid enough as it is. We have to interrogate every cast member as well.” She bit her lip. “I suppose this is a bad time to let you both know that I managed to obtain Cillian Muprhy to play Moriarty.”

 

“Seriously?” Nova was shocked. “I thought he was in Red Lights. That indie after Inception and all…wait.” She looked at Sara in confusion. “I thought he made a statement about not wanting to play villains.”

 

“He didn’t want to be typecast as a villain.” Sara corrected. “Moriarty is kind of on the stranger side. I may have said an upcoming role in the Doctor Chronicles was possible where he would play someone during an episode that was more neutral.”

 

“Sara!” Nova was exasperated.

 

“I had some hand in those stories….and don’t pretend you don’t like the actor. Besides, it could wait until season two or three. At least, talk to him. See what you think.”

 

“And neither of you will be left alone with him either.” John pronounced decidedly.

 

“Actually, I have a better idea.” Sara said. “We’ll leave you two alone and then you can engage him in a staring contest and see how that proceeds.” She turned away from John before heading out of the studio with Jack and Nova to the café. Jack only appeared puzzled by Sara’s somewhat sarcastic but vague comment.

 

“Sara….” He paused. “Forgive me if I’m a bit slow, but was that supposed to scare him? Men like him….” He shrugged. Barrowmen only knew John and Mark to be properly fearful of the Doctor and for good cause if the Earth was left dangling in the balance. Now with his granddaughters to contend with, even more was at risk. Especially considering the girls themselves didn’t want the Doctor to know of their kinship. He could only shudder when inevitably the Doctor would find out and the anger he would have when the knowledge had been kept from him.

 

 _‘But he doesn’t have to know.’_ Sara had pleaded. _‘They didn’t know what the information meant until you barely figured it out. We’ll just pretend we don’t know….’_

 

And for that Barrowmen grimaced. A far easier wager said than done. But still, the Doctor wasn’t one to often run into his presence on any regular basis and he cared about Nova and Sara more than he liked to admit. They were his friends too. And they could appear to see him every day without becoming ill. He had to think that was due to Sara’s healing ability. I had nearly broken him when he had been forced to sever his companionship with the Doctor.

 

But the girls, they filled up a void in him the Doctor had left and for that he was grateful even with the circumstances. They were amusing and often so ironic. Being on the sets kept him occupied.

 

“Oh just wait. Cillian Murphy has some of the scariest eyes you have ever seen. It will disconcert him at least for a few seconds.” She smiled, thinking she had done well to secure him. It would lend more sophistication and refinement to the role. In the original books, Moriarty was a professor. Distinguished and intelligent. She wanted to be able to play the line between psychopathy and sophistication. It was Sherlock Holmes after all and considering she ‘wrote’ the stories, she was free to make a few changes, wasn’t she?

 

Nova thought for a few seconds as an idea occurred to her. “When is Murphy getting in?” she asked carefully.

 

Sara raised her eyebrows at the tone. “You’ve got an idea. Tell me?”

 

“Only if he agrees. When?”

 

Sara laughed. “Tomorrow. He’s catching the train.”

 

“Well, don’t be surprised if he…disappears for a little bit.” Nova grinned broadly. “Because I’ve got an idea!” She laughed as she moved off.

 

“Oh, she is so evil sometimes.” Sara muttered to herself as she chased after her friend, smiling just as widely. It was times like this that they could forget just how much danger they were in. Why they went around with a protection detail at all times. These days, the moments were few and far between; to be savored when they came. “I’ll make you tell me!” was heard from a far room, and then hysterical laughter as a tickle-war started.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**Chapter 10**

 

Slightly after the main reading was concluded for the night, Nova managed to snare Cillian Murphy with a pinch of his shirt between her fingers, a broad smile, and a crooked finger. The security with her followed obediently, but were looking forward to finally hearing what had the redhead so excited since the day before.

 

Murphy was confused, but polite. “May I help you?”

 

Nova blinked, momentarily flummoxed. Then she blushed hotly in embarrassment. “Oh Rassilon! I’m so sorry. I was so focused on asking you that I forgot you don’t know me or anything and this is probably the worst first impression ever and I probably messed it all up and—“

 

The man was grinning just as much as her security by this point, who were incredibly startled – not that they showed it to the stranger in their midst. They had never seen the girl act so…girl-ish before. Almost as if she had a crush…? Hmmm…this bore repeating to Altamont and Gatiss.

 

Cillian smiled at her gently, trying to calm down the obviously genuine woman. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. What did you want to ask me?”

 

Nova took a deep breath, trying to get a hold on herself. Her mind had been swimming with the idea for almost 24 hours. The thought that it might not happen because she had been rude was quite distressing. “I’m sorry. I’m Nova Morganson.”

 

“Oh yes!” Murphy nodded, now understanding. He had been told that Morganson and Thomas lived together and helped each other with almost every aspect of writing and production. He supposed he was seeing one of the effects of such close-knit communication. Sometimes, they forgot they hadn’t communicated with others. It was quite amusing, really. “They told me that you may have a role for me?”

 

Nova smiled, back on even footing, and nodded. “Yes. Sara said that you really don’t want to be typecast.” He nodded in return. “Well, there is one role I have that I haven’t been able to give yet. It’s really different from your others, so it’ll blow the whole typecast thing out of the water…if you can pull it off.” She gave a sigh. “It’s been so hard to fill. I’ve only found one that can do it so far, but he said that the cameras make him nervous and refused.”

 

“Well, now you’ve got me intrigued.” His grin widened. “What’s the role?”

 

“It’s for Captain Jack Harkness. He’s a roguish swindler in the beginning and then flips to the good side and travels with the Doctor and Rose for a bit before he can’t anymore.”

 

He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve done such roles before. Walk the fine line between evil and good. More neutral is definitely a good thing for me at the moment. More what I’m looking for instead of the pure blackheart of Moriarty.”

 

“Well,” she hedged, “the other part is that Jack is a notorious, outrageous flirt. He flirts with anything and everything. I’ve never seen you do a role like that before.” She gestured with her hands imploringly, asking him if it was possible.

 

He frowned slightly, knowing she was right. He had never done something quite so blatant before. He was better at more subtly. “Can you give me an example?”

 

Nova nodded quickly, turned around and picked up a manuscript, already open to the correct page to show him. She pointed. “Here. See? In the beginning, when he’s a con-artist, he uses the flirting two-fold as a tool to catch people off guard and to distract. After he joins with the Doctor he flirts because he likes it and it’s a habit. But he flirts like he breathes. Even when he introduces himself.” She flipped a few pages and pointed again to let him read the correct portions.

 

“Hmmm…” he pondered for several minutes, just reading.

 

She waited anxiously. If he could pull it off, she thought he would be wonderful at it. And it certainly was out of his comfort zone, thus help eliminate his fear of being typecast. Because she was watching him, waiting for a either ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘maybe’, she saw it in his eyes and face when they…changed. It was almost as if he wiped his face clean so that he could put a different expression – someone else’s expression – on it. Him trying to get into the role, she assumed.

 

His deep ocean-blue eye pulled up from the pages and looked directly into hers. Held her own eyes for long moments. His head tilted slightly to the left and his mouth quirked to the right, making him look both balanced and boyish at the same time. His eyes flicked down momentarily, read a line, and bounced back up into hers almost before she noticed the movement. “Captain Jack Harkness.” He stated, introducing ‘himself’.

 

The intonation made her giggle, breaking the spell he had put her under. “Not quite, but not bad either.” She praised. “Best so far given that you’ve only had the papers for…what? ten minutes?”

 

“I’ll go home tonight and see if I can do better tomorrow. I’m definitely interested in trying.” He grinned at her.

 

She pointed at his face at the image. “That one! That grin! Try that one, with that little tilt of your head from before, and go again.” He froze, but was definitely a professional, and obediently did as she asked. She nodded. “Much better. I think what’s getting you at the moment isn’t facial expression, but tonality. It doesn’t sound like your heart is in it, if that makes any sense.”

 

He nodded, “Makes perfect sense to me. I usually have a lot more time to prepare for my parts. I like doing research…who is this man that’s afraid of the cameras? Maybe I’ll find him, listen to him for a while, and see what I can pull out for you tomorrow.”

 

“John Barrowman. He’s our technical analyst. And yeah. You stand still long enough; he’ll flirt with you. Sheesh, he’ll flirt with anything that breathes.” She shook her head in good-natured humor.

 

“Even a time-travelling alien?” Cillian asked with another grin.

 

She was surprised at how much the man liked to smile, but it looked good on him so she certainly wasn’t about to protest. “ _Especially_ a time-travelling alien. Jack’s a Time Agent himself. Time-travel isn’t that big a thing to him.”

 

“Ahhh…well, thank you very much for the offer. I’ll pop in tomorrow to see if I can introduce myself properly and we’ll go from there.”

 

“Sounds wonderful!” She blushed again, “And thanks for not thinking too badly of me for the way I approached you. I’m not usually so awkward.”

 

He laughed. “It’s fine. You were pretty tame in comparison to some of my fans.” With that parting comment, he left and went back to the reading room of the Sherlock group to grab his things before heading home.

 

Her guard softly said, “You like him.”

 

Nova sighed forlornly. “He’s certainly more likable in person than some of these actors that come through. But no…not really. Besides, even if I did…” she shrugged again with a very sad look in her periwinkle eyes. … _what man would want me?_ She didn’t say it, but the thought was loud in her mind. What with the TNA/DNA thing. The assassination attempts. The Doctor looming over so much. Her dreams. The list of why she was undesirable as a long-term partner was long. She doubted she would ever finally get far enough with a man to lose her virginity, let alone something more serious like marriage or children. It didn’t mean she didn’t sincerely want those things, but she was incredibly practical and knew that the chances were slim to none. None being far more likely.

 

She was shaken from her thoughts by a loud **_BOOM!_** Echoing through the building. She felt it with her feet and body as the whole building momentarily shook. Even the glass in the windows. By the time her mind processed the information, she had been thrown to the ground by the nearest security agent, the other still on their feet, gun drawn with safety off as eyes roamed for danger. “Report!” was barked into the radio.

 

Ten extremely tense seconds later came the reply, “Bombing on the London Underground. Multiple injuries, no fatalities reported thus far.”

 

Her guard detail relaxed from position, once they knew that the threat wasn’t in the immediate vicinity to their charges. Not too long afterward, Jack appeared in the doorway, Sara beside him, her security behind him. “I think it’s time to relax and have a few drinks!” he gustowed. “Especially since I’m apparently going to be coaching someone on how to be me tomorrow morning.”

 

Nova blinked at that as she gathered her things. “He asked you already?”

 

“Yup. Caught me as I was going down the hall and practically pounced. Apparently, he’s more eager to get out of his typecasting predicament than we thought. That or he found your claim of it not being quite right as a challenge. He wanted me to flirt with him right there! Not that I minded of course.” He gave his standard roguish grin. “Not everyday that I have those sorts of conversations though. ‘Hey flirt with me!’ isn’t a standard greeting for this century.”

 

Both girls laughed, which had been part of his goal. Sara more so, “You offered him Jack? I was thinking Ten or something.”

 

“Ten’s kinda aggressive sometimes. I thought he’d like the role of Jack better, since you mentioned ‘neutral’ as a quality he was looking for.” Nova disagreed. “So, where are we going?”

 

“With a bombing? We’re going to the townhouse.” Jack’s voice suggested it was obvious. “However, I was thinking we could stop by and get some ginger ale on the way.” He wiggled his eyebrows at both girls.

 

“Why Mr. Barrowman! Are you trying to get us drunk?” Sara exclaimed in mock-horror as they made their way to the waiting vehicle.

 

“Absolutely! Then you can take advantage of me in my weakened state.” He said with a suggestive laugh and eyebrow-wiggle. The girls, of course, broke into peals of laughter. Which had also been a goal of his.

 

On their way out, they once again ran into Cillian and somehow, though Nova wasn’t quite sure how, the now four-person group found themselves at a pub just around the corner only taking brief glances at the news to find that fortunately, the bomb that hit the Underground, while causing a lot of damage, the injuries weren’t as bad as they could be. For one thing, it was after 11:00 PM. The Underground was shut down for the night. Injuries were limited to pedestrians hit by some fallen debris. No casualties were to be expected.

 

“Thank God.” Sara muttered, sipping her drink that was partially of her own creation. Ginger beer and Jameson whiskey as to appeal to their new Irish cast member. Jameson being an Irish whiskey. Already, she felt nice and the brothers didn’t insist on joining them. At least not directly in view. They to an extent trusted Jack as an adequate guard. Of course some security lingered outside but it gave the illusion of normalcy and such a thing was nice. “It could have been worse.”

 

“Seems rather isolated.” Jack muttered. “Might be just your run of the mill domestic bombings.”

 

“Maybe they planted bombs in a train car and we had to go down there to flip the off switch in time.”

 

Murphy gave a low chuckle. “I don’t believe that is how bombs work.”

 

“I know.” Sara said to him. “Silly joke from a bad movie I saw.”

 

“I hope not one of mine.” He verified.

 

“Of course not.” Sara grinned. “I loved your movies. Each and every one. I think you’re brilliant. Batman Begins, Sunlight, Inception, Red Light....oh and Red Eye. And despite what you think, you were more aligned as the anti-hero than villain in that thriller, in my opinion.”

 

“You believe so.” Murphy raised his eyebrows.

 

“I know so, which is why I know you’re perfectly capable of playing Jack Harkness. You were able to flirt with the character Lisa Reisert. You can manage it with Rose, the Doctor, Martha and well….” She shrugged. “I really wish I had an anti-hero role for you to play but I thought having the opportunity to do a villain in one and a more classical protagonist in the other, that shows flexibility.” She paused. “I also enjoyed your role in ‘In Time’. Tell me, was that story based at all on Les Miserables? I kept thinking your character reminded me of the tragic role of Javert.”

 

“Actually, those were my thoughts too.” He was sipping from his whiskey glass. “Which is why it appealed to me.”

 

“So,” Nova started. “Let’s see what you got, in terms of flirtation.”

 

“And to whom should I be directing my attentions?”

 

Nova thought for a moment. Although she was ever-so-tempted to say herself, she might find herself a bit distracted. It might be beneficial for her first to analyze how he did the role play with Sara. Besides, while Sara’s attitude was friendly, she had an instinct that Murphy wasn’t her type.

 

The server had just come to the table to ask for refills. “Oh something different this time.” Sara said, feeling the buzz from the alcohol. “I think I would like-“

 

“Oh allow me, if I may guess.” Immediately Murphy had slipped into his smoother and charming tone. “I have a particular talent in this area.”

 

“Oh you do, do you?” Sara giggled. “Go ahead.”

 

“I’m sensing something sweet for this round.” He started thoughtfully. “Perhaps cranberries….” He saw Sara tilt her head. “No, far too common. The fruit is ordinary, isn’t it?”

 

Sara gave a small shrug.

 

“No, a girl like you has something more interesting in mind. You want something out of the ordinary, more complex than the cherry, with just the right balance. The subtly of the orange.” He paused, glancing at the server. “A pomegranate cosmo.”

 

She laughed. “That was remarkably dead on.” Sara told him. “And I thought it was just a scene from Red Eye.”

 

“On the contrary, I studied quite a bit on bartending.”

 

“Smooth.” Nova nodded, impressed. “Very smooth. Jack, what do you think?”

 

“It’s not bad.” He assessed strategically. “But can you dance? Anyone that has similarities to me, needs to be able to dance.”

 

“Ah, well then,” he stood, offering his hand to Nova. “May I have this dance?”

 

If Sara didn’t know any better, she would think her friend was blushing. “Oh why not?” Nova said. “It’s all good business.” The couple got up and moved to the dance floor as Sara simply watched the two.

 

“She likes him.” Sara nodded. “She might deny it but I can tell. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a while.”

 

“And you?” Jack asked. “What will it take for you to smile?”

 

“Well, not to feel this impending dread hang over my head at every single instance.” Sara’s voice was briefly forlorn. “Other than that….I don’t know.” Her drink came and she felt more and more relaxed, leaning back in her chair and rocking slightly.

 

“You know, you never said, your ideas for the books, where did they come from? Do you dream like Nova?”

 

“I dream but no, not like her.” She sighed. “But well, simpler explanation. Told you the truth, you never believe me.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot, Sara. It would take a great deal for me to doubt any explanation you gave. So try me. What could it hurt? Worst comes to worst, we’re both pretty wasted anyway right?”

 

“Wasted….yes.” Sara muttered. “Nova told me not to tell anyone. Not the brothers. Think I’m insane.”

 

“But I’m not the brothers. I won’t think you’re insane. You know me.” Jack attested.

 

“Oh, alright.” Sara sighed. “But you can’t laugh.” She said to him. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

 

“I swear.”

 

“I come from another dimension.”

 

Well, that wasn’t much of a revelation. They all had ascertained that much when the girls seemed to appear out of thin air. “Well, that much I believe.” Jack said.

 

“But Nova and I didn’t come from the same dimension.” Sara said, swirling her glass. “Cause, you see, in my dimension, this was a show.”

 

He paused, freezing momentarily. “A show?”

 

“Oh yes. Wasn’t a show for Nova but for me, the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes were already on television. It’s why I could help Nova write the books. All….eight seasons or something were on air.  With Sherlock I saw three and change. It’s how I recognized you by your faces.” She yawned. “But, shh, don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. You like secrets don’t you Jack?”

 

“I’m sure he enjoys them tremendously.” A familiar voice echoed behind them and Sara cringed. John. Well, oops. This was kind of bad. “But it isn’t a secret he can afford to keep from me. Ms. Thomas, you need to explain everything.”

 

“Then it wouldn’t be much of a secret anymore!” Sara protested, grabbing Jack’s hand. ‘And I’m tired of playing by the rules. It’s too hot in here.” In a dash, she barely skirted under John’s arm and ran out the front door, across the street to Hyde Park.

 

“Where are we going?” Jack asked at this sudden change of venue.

 

“Swimming. In the lake. It’ll be fun.” She suddenly plunged into the invariably cold water. She had already started to swim out to the middle, only to gasp when she was suddenly face to face with….she didn’t know. She couldn’t see. But suddenly a murky mist enveloped her face. Right then, she started screaming. It was the Valeyard. Coming directly towards her, to drag her to his ship. His prison.

 

“I know who you are Sara. And I’m coming. With you and Nova, we’ll watch the entire world burn together.”

 

“No!” She started to scream.

 

Distantly she heard Jack’s voice behind her.

 

“And then after that, the universe. We’ll be the only one’s left, just as it should be. I destroyed both your universes before….” He sneered. “I’ll do it again.”

 

“Nova!” She screamed. “He’s coming! You can’t let him come. You can’t!”

 

A pair of arms seized her from behind. She screamed louder and fought against them as they pulled her out of the water.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

**Chapter 11**

 

Nova was liking the close dancing in Cillian’s arms much more than she knew she should. She even liked how he _smelled_. How odd was that? But she did. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla, her favorite scents other than home cooking. And somehow, her head had made its way to his shoulder, where it now rested.

 

How could she do this to herself? It was probably the worst form of self-torture she could imagine. She knew, _knew_ , that no man wanted her. How else had she reached nearly thirty with only a single one-night-stand to her name? Practically a virgin, except in the strictest definition. She still hadn’t had an orgasm except with an electrical-powered boyfriend.

 

But here she was, slow dancing with a possible future _employee_ , inhaling his fragrance like she was a child smelling a fresh pumpkin pie. Imagining how his arms were around her gently, cradling her just right. Making her feel wanted and cared for. “We need to stop,” she murmured against his pale blue shirt as she drew away. Was just wishful thinking that his arms only let her go reluctantly?

 

His voice was right by her ear as he replied, “As _you_ wish.” Why did he emphasize that ‘you’? Was he only stopping because she insisted? But she didn’t want him to stop! Or did she? How much would she hate herself later for this? For not letting it continue…or for not stopping it before it broke her heart.

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how one thought about it, a shout came between pieces of music, jarring her instantly out of her tumultuous thoughts. “NOVA!”

 

“Jack?” she asked, turning her head toward the direction of the shout. In her name, she had heard barely-restrained panic and fear.

 

Cillian, never having been told he was a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, wondered if she called the other ‘Jack’ because of how much alike the man was to her character. After all, his name was John, which would make two John’s on set, which could definitely be confusing. Cillian himself had once been on set with three Mary’s. It had been a headache differentiating them in speech patterns and such.

 

However, he had also heard the tonality in ‘Jack’s voice and hurried to fight the crowd toward the other man, one hand around Nova’s shoulders to help lead her through the now-throng of dancing patrons.

 

When they made their way over, Nova immediately went to Barrowman’s side. “Jack, what’s wrong? Where’s Sara?” she asked anxiously.

 

“She told me your secret, Nova. Altamont overheard and confronted her to tell him all of it. He’ll order you to do the same.” She paled as he had started speaking. Cillian wondered if the attempts on the girls’ lives he had heard about weren’t just rumors. Maybe a crazed fan? Every public figure had heard horror stories of such things. Both girls certainly had a large security team each. His thoughts were interrupted as Barrowman kept talking. “She reacted by running out to the nearby lake and taking a swim. Then she started to scream. When I went in after her, she fought me.” Barrowman ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “I had no choice. I had to knock her a bit dazed just to be able to get her to shore.” It explained why the man was dripping wet.

 

“When I did get her to shore, I summoned her security to take her home. She kept babbling about someone being in the lake. How you needed to make sure he didn’t come here. I was hoping you could shed some light on her reaction.”

 

Cillian remained quiet, just watching the byplay with his considerable observational skills. There was something happening here. Something he was missing. As if only hearing half a conversation. Or starting a book in the middle without the luxury of even a synopsis of what happened in the preceding chapters.

 

Nova was still a bit pale, but when she understood that her friend wasn’t in immediate danger, she slowly began to regain her color. “Who did she think was in the lake?”

 

“Someone called ‘the Valeyard’.”

 

Jack – he really didn’t mind the name, thought it made things less confusing, and also a little flattered by their consideration – could not have guessed how that title would have made the five foot four redhead react.

 

Whatever color she had gained, she quickly lost. She spun on her heel, her eyes darting around the room full of oblivious people as if she expected something horrible to happen. “We have to leave.” Her voice was a bare whisper, barely audible to her own ears.

 

“What?” Jack tried to get her to repeat.

 

“We have to leave!” she cried out, grabbed both of their arms and tried to physically drag them out of the bar. In shock, they allowed her to do just that. When all three were outside, she called out to her security who were waiting by the door for them. “We need to get to the townhouse!” the fear in her voice was enough to get them all moving quickly, trying to find the danger her tone implied.

 

Since her grip didn’t loosen on either arm, the men were hustled into the limo as well, alongside her; Cillian included. Jack peered over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Interesting introductions, huh?”

 

Murphy inclined his head in acknowledgement of the statement. His eyes though were on Nova, wondering what about this unknown individual had made her so afraid. She was practically shaking in the vehicle, absolutely terrified. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so scared before, not off camera or on. This wasn’t acting. Her blue-purple eyes were distant, as if she was seeing something they couldn’t. Or lost in memory. Even when they passed through the gates to the gorgeous property he assumed was the townhouse – which made him wonder at their version of a simple house or flat – and he saw the incredible security, all of which were on high-alert, she didn’t relax.

 

When the limo stopped, he had to step out first so that she could exit. Her death-grip on their sleeves still had not wavered at all. Her knuckles were stark white from having such force for so long. He doubted she would hear him, wherever her mind was at the moment, but he whispered anyway to the other man, “Is there a doctor present?”

 

Her sharply indrawn breath and utterly terrified eyes met his own in less than a millisecond, making him wonder how on earth she could move so quickly. “Where is he? Where’s the Doctor?!” there was nothing but fear there.

 

Jack, now that they weren’t moving, called out, “Michael! Get your ass in here!” His voice echoed slightly, careful not to use the word ‘doctor’ again. Before the reverberations had petered out, there was the sound of rapid footsteps. “Bring a sedative!” The footsteps became louder and quicker.

 

Nova herself had started to fight trying to get away from the footsteps. “No! Not him! Please!” He had to wrap his strong arms around her waist and bodily lift her from the ground, so hard did she try to run out the door. “He’ll kill us all! Please!” tears were streaming down her cheeks as she kept fighting.

 

Michael came into the foyer at a dead run, needle in hand. When he saw his struggling patient, he didn’t even pause. Just went with as much speed as he could achieve to give her the mild sedative to help calm her down. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What in the hell happened Jack?!”

 

The girl was finally starting to calm, though the tears didn’t stop. As her form began to sag, Jack shifted his hold to one arm under her knees and one supporting her back. “Hell if I know. I was telling her what happened to Sara then she turned white as a sheet and was pulling us toward the car as quick as she could. I’ve never seen her so scared.”

 

“It was the name that triggered her.” Cillian said quietly, still almost in shock at what he had seen from the girl in the last quarter-hour. “Whoever that individual is, she’s terrified of them.”

 

“Don’t say his name.” Her voice was just as quiet, filled with tears. They looked down at her only to find her eyes on them, pleading with them to agree. “He might come if you say his name.”

 

John Altamont had finally arrived, his brother at his side. Neither paused for long at the unexpected visitor. That was what the short-term memory loss drug Be-Gone, which he thought he had seen Nova call ‘Ret-Con’ in her notes, was designed for. “Who, Nova?” he tried to ask gently. They had gotten nothing out of Sara. She was far too hysterical from whatever she had seen. Dr. Freeman had no choice but to knock the girl out completely to prevent her from hurting herself. Thus, now Nova was their only source of information, and she was slightly inebriated and given a relaxant. Perhaps that would help. “Who is this man?” he was careful not to say the name, trying to keep her talking without antagonizing the clearly traumatized girl any further. “Has he hurt you? Did he hurt Sara?” he kept his voice so very calm, gentle. Trying to coax the information out of her.

 

“You don’t understand,” she voiced, tears once again flowing down her cheeks. “He’s going to kill us all.”

 

“We gave our word to protect you, Nova. You and Sara.” Mark intoned behind his brother, adopting the same tone and body language he used when trying to make people think he was kind and non-threatening.

 

“No one can protect us. You don’t understand.” She sobbed in broken heaves.

 

Cillian couldn’t stand this anymore. Just watching this spectacle made his chest hurt, his anger simmer and try to boil over at just how broken this girl was. Whoever this ‘Valeyard’ happened to be, it was perfectly clear that the man – if one could call such a person a man, which implied humanity and this individual clearly had none if he could inspire such abject terror – had traumatized Nova so well that she had no rational processes when it came to the individual.

 

Not knowing what else he could do to help, Cillian knelt on the floor next to the couch the girl had been laid upon, and adopted one of the many personas he had portrayed before. He had done extensive research for each role. He had gained the equivalency of a minor in several subjects from all the books he had read and studied, including psychology for his role of Dr. Jonathan Crane. He schooled his facial expression into the one that she seemed to respond the best to – his boyish smile – and tried to reassure her. “Nova.” Her eyes focused on him, which he thought was a good first step. “We’re trying to help you. But we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what we need to know.” Those eyes might as well been verbally begging him, pleading with him, to leave her alone. “Please let us help you and Sara.” At the mention of her friend, he could see the moment when she gave in.

 

Her voice was quiet, hesitant, and full of tears and broken pauses. But she told the room all of it. None asked her questions during her small breaks, almost afraid it would make her stop speaking completely.

 

And so they all listened. John Altamont, Mark Gatiss, Michael Freeman, John Barrowman, and Cillian Murphy as she explained _everything_. About her non-sequential dreams, her family and dimension where she had started writing books. The Doctor. The Master. Gallifrey. The Valeyard – though she never said the name. Sara and her dimension. How the girls had met. The Time Lord Victorious. The Hybrid. Being ever-so-careful searching for the people they had thought might be there and finding none. Writing the books. Sherlock Holmes. John Watson. Mycroft Holmes. The television offer.

 

It took hours.

 

By the time she was getting toward the end of her tale, catching up with present-day, the sedative had almost worn off and the poor woman was looking haggard and exhausted.

 

Dr. Freeman finally stepped to her side, pushing Cillian, who had never moved from his place next to the couch, out of the way. “It’s time to get you to bed, my dear. I think this time, you’d like to sleep with Sara?” It was a question, but he didn’t even wait for an answer as he gestured for Jack – their strongest – to carry her. Cillian however, was the one to lift the woman into his arms, walk up the stairs, and settle her gently into bed beside her friend, pulling the covers up and tucking her into bed. He gazed at her for a long moment before closing the door, double checking that the guards were still there just in case, and going back downstairs.

 

He stepped into the middle of a discussion.

 

Jack was standing by the window. “Well, that certainly explains some things that never made sense. No wonder they are so scared of the Doctor. Nova has seen the absolute worst side of him and is terrified of the sheer _possibility_.”

 

“If she was telling the truth—“

 

“Why would she lie?” he demanded, breaking off the other man. “She was terrified and drugged. I doubt she _could_ lie in that state!”

 

“If you would let me finish.” Mark admonished with a raised eyebrow. After a second, he continued. “As I was saying, if she was telling the truth, it certainly explains things. It also explains why their information was both accurate and incorrect at the same time. However, with that in mind, what makes us think that Nova’s dreams aren’t similar to Sara’s ‘show’?”

 

John nodded thoughtfully. “If she is dreaming such things, she could just as easily be dreaming about other dimensions entirely. Not necessarily this one. That would also explain why they are non-sequential. Theoretically, all dimensions are at different points in time, independent of each other. Only the ones directly next to one another are even close in the main time stream.”

 

“Neither girl has control of their abilities. It’s reasonable.” Michael said tiredly.

 

Cillian was definitely of several minds on this subject. He doubted that anyone could make up a story so fantastic. Plus, the emotions she had portrayed were certainly real. However, someone could believe something and it still be fiction. It was called insanity. A fugue state, if he remembered correctly. Why were these men taking her story seriously? And what were they going to do when they remembered he was there? For the moment, he would stay silent and just watch. Observe. It was something he did very well.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Sara woke up back in her room in the queen size bed with Nova tucked in right next to her. She blinked her eyes quickly, feeling a little queasy from her alcohol consumption and then the bitter taste at the back of her throat. No longer under the influence, she scowled briefly remembering what she had said, how John had overheard her. Running out to the lake and the insubstantial vision that appeared before her in the shadows. The lake and Hyde Park seemed to curl with a fine white mist to which she hadn’t given much credence to in the midst of her inebriated state but…..now she knew. A hallucination. She pressed her lips together.

 

The brothers had been demanding information. They wanted to know the source. They went so far as manipulate Jack to find the outcome. She was irritated, considering all the more that the very effects were a mimicry to the Hounds of Baskerville. _What did they do? Import the chemical for extra effect?_ Considering the similarity between John and the version of Sherlock she had seen in her dimension who had been given to experimental whims, she wouldn’t put it past either of them.

 

But she took a deep breath and counted to ten. A constant measure, which Nova had often said to do before she simply went into a furious rampage. Besides her friend was sleeping next to her and Nova looked so peaceful in that moment. Sara really didn’t want to wake her. Likely the stress of the situation had not been helpful. Nova needed her rest and Sara needed information.

 

So she quietly stepped outside to see four men downstairs. One in particular kept to the back near the stairs, observing quietly but trying not to garner attention. Sara grimaced briefly. Cillian Murphy. He was listening. The brothers and Jack were talking about things candidly, nearly as if Cillian wasn’t even there.

 

 _Poor guy._ She thought. Sara respected him and she hoped that the little spark she detected between him and Nova might develop. He shared a fair amount of her interests and he was bright. Versatile. But she also knew the brothers would consider various options when they realized they had to clean up a potential leak and…. _no._ She thought. She wouldn’t run the risk of letting someone die that she had brought here in the first place.

 

So, she stared down at him, mentally thinking. _Look up. Just look up._ It was so often the case that a person could feel someone’s stare could be felt on another level. At least it often seemed so for her. But her heart leapt when Cillian glanced up at her. His mouth started to open but she shook her head, putting her finger to her lips as she beckoned for him to come upstairs.

 

He nodded and quietly made his way upstairs. She was astonished at how light he was on his feet. She had seen a few episodes of him in Peaky Blinders and thought about how his footfalls were relatively light. It was similar in Batman Begins and then in Red Eye.

 

“You’re feeling better.” He observed.

 

“More or less.” Sara led him down near her bedroom. “What did you hear?”

 

He cocked his head, looking directly at her. “Nova confessed you both were from alternate dimensions. She senses other realities through dreams. You believe you experience them through television shows. That your writing is based on those accounts. You also have abilities but you have a perpetual fear of an individual who is a doctor. In particular someone called a Valeyard.”

 

Sara closed her eyes. “Please don’t say Valeyard around Nova.”

 

“Who is the Valeyard?”

 

“I’m not sure you signed on for this type of insanity,” she sighed.

 

“I’m adaptable.” Cillian said. “And I’m already involved. If someone hurt Nova to that degree….” His expression tightened at the thought. He remembered how genuinely pleasant it was dancing with her. It was rare for him to feel that way with anyone, much less a girl he had known for less than six hours. He caught Sara’s brief smile. She hadn’t missed the gesture and emotion that crossed his face. “Or you.” He remedied quickly.

 

“I see.” Sara told him. How well she did. She took a breath and looked up at him. She heard Jack downstairs. Cillian’s name was mentioned and then she heard the terms ret-con and HDAC. Oh, she knew that term. Why did it skip her mind?

 

“Histone deacetylase inhibitor.” Sara muttered.

 

“Pardon?” Cillian asked but Sara took hold of his hand.

 

“They are going to erase the last twenty four hours of your memory. You won’t even remember meeting us but….” She swallowed. “Call it instincts, I know and I think Nova does too, that we can trust you. Go out the window, to the left, there’s a ladder you can shimmy down. The code is 8253 to deactivate the electrical field around the gate. Access panel on the far left hand side. There’s a small door. You should be able to walk right out.”

 

“And you two?” He asked. “I would like to arrange a meeting.”

 

“I know.” She placed a phone in his hand. “My phone. We’ll call you. Just please, remain off the grid for the next twenty four hours or stay with close friends. People you know.”

 

“I believe I know the place.” He paused before taking one last glance at Nova and then looking at Sara. “You both will explain?”

 

“I promise.” She said, hearing the footsteps up the stairs. “Go now, please.”

 

By the time the three arrived with the ready pill, Cillian Murphy had disappeared and the security to the gate had been breached. Nova had abruptly awakened to hear Sara being lectured and interrogated as to how she got the code. She blinked her eyes rapidly and smiled to herself, thinking about Cillian. She really didn’t want all the memories of their meeting to be eradicated. Sara, she supposed, had made the decision in part for her.

 

“How did you obtain the code sequence for the security gate?” John demanded.

 

Sara looked down, not glancing at Nova once. “Lucky guess?” She had gotten the code from her friend when they had first arrived at the townhouse over a month ago. It was the brothers’ own fault for never changing the code to begin with!  Considering how paranoid the brothers were supposed to be with their protection, one would think that passcodes and such other important things would be changed weekly, if not daily. That the code still worked was a little odd, in her opinion.

 

“Stop yelling at her. It’s not her fault that you did something stupid.” Nova came to her defense, her hands on her hips as she tried to take a more aggressive stance. She wasn’t quite sure she pulled it off very well.

 

“ _We_ did something stupid?!” John now actually yelled; almost as if he was determined to do the deed he was being accused of. Before he was just being forceful, but his volume had been even. Now, the volume had been increased. Just for her.

 

“Yes! _You_ did something stupid!” Nova refused to back down, glaring at him. “Sara was just trying to fix it before it got out of hand!”

 

“And what could we _possibly_ have been doing that was so moronic?” John countered, his voice now almost a growl. He hadn’t thought the petite redhead capable of such aggressive tendencies. However, now that she was showing some, he didn’t quite know how to handle them. If she was anyone else - as in someone that wasn’t under his and his brother’s protection - he would have ignored her attitude and proceeded as usual. Since she and Sara both were covered under the contract, he wasn’t quite sure of his response.

 

“You were going to erase Cillian’s memory.” Nova answered promptly, folding her arms over her chest in irritation.

 

“To protect you both.” Mark thought it was about time he got in on this discussion, his calm, even voice a counterpoint to them both. If one could call such a shouting match a ‘discussion’. “He knows more than he should.”

 

“He wouldn’t have said anything to anyone.”

 

“How could you know? You’ve known him less than twenty-four hours.” Mark raised an eyebrow in dubious query.

 

Nova paused at that, not knowing what to say. But she did know that “I like how he smells” wouldn’t be an adequate response. Such a reply would probably result in having Mark order the security team to go hunt the man down and force-feed him the Ret-Con, or whatever they were calling it. Actually...why hadn’t they already done just that? Just because Cillian had managed to escape the property didn’t mean he was inaccessible. It wouldn’t take much time or effort on either brothers’ part to track the man down.

 

Sara looked at her friend trying to defend her, take the attention off of who had really been the one to let Murphy off the property. Nova might have given her the code, but she had been the one to decide to use it. Now Nova was getting the attention on herself. Perhaps trying to get them to forget? That wouldn’t work. The brothers didn’t forget - no matter how much one may want them too. They only forgot when they wanted to and what they wanted to.

 

So, it was time to do her part in this newest fiasco that was their life. Sara schooled her features in an ‘ah-ha’ moment and said quite clearly. “You have a feeling, don’t you?” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Both girls hated lying.

 

Nova’s periwinkle eyes zoomed to hazel, understanding clicking in their gazes. The redhead nodded slowly, as if hesitating to bring it up. It was true, after all. She _did_ have a feeling.

 

She felt like she could ignore the whole universe when he held her in his arms as he did last night. She felt that his kisses would taste like vanilla and be gentle, but with the hidden burning passion she could see in his eyes. She had seen a glimpse the night before, barely simmering rage _for her_. He had wanted to do everything he could to help her last night. He had been angry that he hadn’t been able to do more, other than gently, calmly assure her of her safety. She felt he was full of such hidden depths and passions that she could easily - _eagerly_ \- continue to discover and delight in them for the rest of her life.

 

Nova froze at her own thoughts. _Oh Rassilon...what’s happening to me? Am I… Do I…_  Abruptly, she sprang forward, caught Sara’s hand in her own and practically dragged her best friend up to their room. “Time for girl talk! Bye!” She yelled over her shoulder to the boys halfway up the stairs. When she finally got them to her room, she pushed Sara in and slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure. When she turned around, her eyes conveyed fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt. Fear of possibilities. “I think I’m in trouble,” she finally voiced. Imploring Sara to help.

 

Sara, reading everything in her friend, and having a small idea about where such things were coming from, internally laughed gaily. Nova, her dear friend of almost seven years, was in the middle of her first crush. All she allowed herself for the moment was a small smile as she turned her attention to the upcoming discussion.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The men downstairs blinked at the retreating backs of their two charges. John finally asked in genuine curiosity, “Is it hormonal? I missed the memo.”

 

Jack blinked at the audacity to actually voice such a question. He thought it was obvious. He wasn’t a ladies-man for nothing. He paid attention to such things. Learned when to stay away. Far, far away.

 

Mark shook his head. “Perhaps, but neither girl is due for their menses for another nine days.”

 

Michael tilted his head in astonishment. “You keep track?” It was his job as their doctor to keep note of such things, but them? And what did John mean by memo?

 

“You don’t?” John asked in some surprise.

 

“Well of course _I_ do, I’m their doctor, it’s my job to know these things! But why do you?” Michael asked incredulously.

 

“As they are under our protection, I must be aware of all possibilities and their state of being. Mental, emotional, and physical states. How can I adequately anticipate their actions, reactions, and needs unless I have all the data possible?” Mark said, his tone implying that the answer was obvious. “Both the male and female bodies produce hormones in a cyclic fashion. Female hormones in particular can produce discomfiture, which would contribute to their physical state. Which may result in emotional decisions they will regret later, which in turn results in an upset mental state.” He made it sound very reasonable.

 

Michael just wanted to bang his head against a wall. It might be more productive. Almost three years knowing these two and still he didn’t know everything.  Of course, before Sara and Nova, there hadn’t been a woman the brothers lived with since they still resided with their own families. Michael suddenly realized that the brothers probably knew the ‘hormonal cycle’ of all their relatives. “Don’t tell them you do that,” he moaned into the hand he currently held over his face.

 

John scoffed, “Of course not. I only made that mistake once. And excuses must be made for children. I was hormonal myself at the time.”

 

Jack laughed uproariously at the mental image of a pre-teen John innocently asking such a question to a sibling. Or perhaps casually informing the family over dinner that the sister was only whining about the dress she wanted because her mental state was being effected by her hormonal cycle. A pause as the table absorbed the words and processed the meaning. Then an explosion as said sister leaps across the table to try and strangle her brother. Yes, Jack would treasure such an image!

 

Mark cleared his throat. “The _point_ , gentlemen, is that while the peak of their hormonal cycle has not been reached as of yet, the girls are on a down curve. They may indeed be reacting impulsively.”

 

“ _Or_ ,” Jack stressed, “you could take them seriously. Nova having a feeling is significant. We should all pay attention to when one of them has a feeling, good or bad in nature.”

 

“Noted,” Mark inclined his head generously at the point. “We must also contemplate how they obtained the code for the gate to begin with, however.”

 

The four all stopped to consider for several moments, each thinking about possibilities. Jack finally cleared his throat, hesitating to even bring such a topic up. “Are either of you aware that Time Lords are...telepathic?” Because he had known the brothers for years, over a decade, and knew that they took the contract very seriously. They would not have shared the code with anyone except those that absolutely _had_ to have the information, which wouldn’t have been many. And the ones that did have it, would have been vetted from at least five sources, sworn to secrecy, and signed a stack of non-disclosures.

 

The brothers exchanged a speaking glance.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

**Chapter 12**

 

Meanwhile Sara looked at her very stymied friend. “Oh yes, you are in trouble. Real trouble.” She said seriously while Nova glanced up in panic. “Could it be that you, Nova of all people, has developed something so wildly unpredictable as an attraction on your first encounter? Of all the awful things…”

 

Nova briefly socked her arm but inside her heart was beating quickly. “Do you think he feels the same way? We just met. This isn’t even rational and…” She started to pace.

 

“Love isn’t entirely rational. It isn’t something to be quantified.” Sara answered. “It is capable of having people do the greatest and most craziest things. But I think that’s why it’s taken as long as it has. We lost everyone we loved all at once. How hard would it be for anyone to put their hearts back out there again? No.” Sara smiled. “I commend you. You beat me to it.” She nodded. “And I had a _feeling.”_ She used the word she implied to Nova referring to her enhanced telepathic ability. “I felt he could be trusted and I saw how much he cared for you. I like him. I wouldn’t have taken such a crazy risk if it wasn’t worth something like this for you.”

 

Nova inhaled through her nose. “Still that only gets him outside the gate.” She gazed at her friend seriously. “They can still hunt him down. You know that. Logically speaking, there is only a certain number of places he will go. They’ll check his family. All their property.”

 

“I know.” Sara muttered. “I gave him my phone so you can contact him and told him to remain off the grid as much as possible for the next twenty four hours but…” She paused. “I have an idea. I’m not sure you’ll like it considering I’ll need your help in pulling it off.”

 

“What?” Nova was circumspect as she always was with Sara’s ideas.

 

“I disappear too for the next twenty four hours. If that occurs, their objective changes; as it would if either one of us were to vanish or run from their proximity.”

 

“Of course it would.” Nova snapped. “What exactly would that accomplish? Plus they’ve likely already changed the code again. I might be able to lift it if I’m lucky from their minds but it was entirely by chance that Mark was concentrating on it to a superficial degree when you tried to exit the house before. If I did a backdoor login to their system to decrypt the code, it is likely to be traced but….” She shook her head. “No. It’s a terrible idea for you to leave the house. It’s not safe out there. Someone gave us aspirin _twice_ and put me in that bonfire. They are targeting us and-“

 

“Which is why I won’t leave the estate.” Sara said calmly. “But you must allow them to think I did.

 

Nova froze. “You’re not going to leave?”

 

“No, I will simply hide. I’ve explored every inch of the house and I have the perfect hiding place.” Sara told her. “It’s somewhere they never go.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Better you didn’t know. That way, you don’t have to lie.”

 

Nova scowled. “I hate lying.”

 

“Then don’t lie.” Sara said helpfully. “Hack the server. Lift the code. It will be traced.” Sara glanced out the window. “Then let the facts speak for themselves.”

 

Nova looked at her friend uncertainly. “I don’t know. I really don’t…”

 

“It’s either that or you allow them to ret-con Cillian. Take away all your first memories of him. His first with you. All those bits of his life. Remember how you refused to do that to John and Mark?” Sara stared at Nova. “And they’re not exactly innocent.” Sara hands tightened into fists. “Cillian is. It’s not right and it wouldn’t be fair or justified to do that.”

 

Nova let out a slow breath. She didn’t like the plan and didn’t trust in her ability to imply this whole idea but Sara was right. Perhaps it was the lesser of two evils. Meanwhile, she would try to do as Sara suggested. “Alright.” Nova said. “But I don’t know how convincing I’ll be and Sara….” She said to her friend who was already near the door, a few books in hand.

 

“Yes?”

 

“If we’re caught in this, then that’s it. I am keeping you at your word you won’t leave the townhouse.”

 

“I would never leave you behind.” Sara told her. “And not with John and Mark. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

 

“Yes.” Nova muttered to herself, somewhat amused then becoming serious as she looked at the computer screen. “Yes, I believe it is.” Perhaps while she was in the system, she might find out more than just a code to mislead. What other information they had. Their projects. Since she was part Time Lord, curiosity was second nature to her.

 

“Salvinorin D.” Nova muttered to herself and frowned. “Experimental compound of Salvia Divinorum combined with oleoresin capsicum derivative and OC gas makes….” Her words trailed off. The bit code was already changing. Her presence had been detected. She could hear footsteps on the stairs. She slammed the cover of her laptop down with a fair amount of disgust. _Chemical warfare. That stuff causes a person to see violent, horrible chemical induced hallucinations._ She shuddered. It would be worse than tripping off LSD. In that case, a hallucination would be good or bad. But this compound ensured that whomever the victim targeted….they were guaranteed to see monsters.

 

John and Mark entered her room as one of the brothers opened the door to inspect the unoccupied bedroom, while Nova looked on in some disgust she didn’t have to pretend.

 

“Where’s Sara?” John demanded.

 

“I don’t know.” Nova said honestly. “Is she still being entertained by the effects of your top secret fear inducing chemical hallucination project?” She was somewhat amazed with herself at how pleasant she sounded, directly contrary to her current emotions.

 

“Hallucination project?” Michael had just entered right behind them. “What hallucination project?”

 

Nova could tell he didn’t know and why would he? Michael’s motives weren’t of a maleficent nature. “Don’t ask me.” She said solidly. “You should ask them.” She gestured to the brothers.

 

“And I’m certain we’ll be more than willing to explain as soon as we know where Sara is.”

 

“But I really don’t know where she is.” Nova said firmly, turning away from them.

 

“Nova…” Jack tried but John was already studying her computer.

 

“She accessed the new code data surrounding the gate and bypassed its control.” John’s voice was flat. “You would put Sara’s life at risk by allowing her outside the premises.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Nova was silent, still keeping her back turned, her breathing even. It was the best tactic she thought she could do. If it worked, if it bought time, then at least that was one achievement. Suddenly she was spun around by John who had suddenly ripped her cellphone out from her coat pocket.

 

“That’s mine.” She insisted instantly, keeping her voice steady. “Return that to me at once. It is my mobile.”

 

“And you are living on my property.”

 

 _Without much option or choice in the matter._ Nova thought as she reached for her absconded cell phone.

 

Jack spoke up for her. “John, give the lady back her cell phone. That is no way to treat a guest. Are you going to take mine as well?”

 

“Do I need to?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t eliminate the possibility.”

 

“Then I would like to see you try.” A challenge.

 

“Children.” Mark rolled his eyes, glancing at the phone. “Ah, curious. A text message.” He narrowed his eyes. “From Sara’s phone. It says she’s beyond the gate and will keep moving.” He looked at John. “We’ll assemble a team for a search. Acquire the tracking information from Sara’s cell phone using the GPS chip.”

 

Nova froze internally. They thought Sara had her own phone and thus sent the message but it wasn’t Sara that had her phone at all. It was Cillian. _Damn it._ She hoped he would know to turn off the phone. Although, she wouldn’t put it past the brothers to install a form of malware that might do a form of tracking even with the cellphone off, acquiring an exact position would be difficult. It would give a radius of several blocks. She also seemed to remember that there was a feature on some new phones that, with the correct password, the owner could remotely activate a phone that had been turned off, so as to track it if stolen.

 

But their plan seemed to have a side effect and she felt her heart race when she thought of Cillian. _None of this is rational._ A seeming echo of her continuing thoughts. As the idea of her finally going insane from her nightly dreams went across her mind, she was momentarily pulled out of them when the two brothers exited the room, her phone still firmly in John’s possession.

 

Jack and Michael were still with her though. Jack was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he watched her. “Nova?” he asked gently. “Are you telepathic?”

 

She blinked over at him, startled. “What?”

 

“Sara has most of the physical characteristics. Healing. Resistance to cold. Increased strength. As she needs them, of course. But you...with your dreams, it’s not that far of a leap to wonder at what other mental capabilities you may hold.” Jack explained his reasoning as soothingly as he could. Trying not to alarm her.

 

It didn’t work.

 

Nova’s eyes widened at his implications and her breathing began to come in panicked pants. She clutched her chest as her heart seemed to bang around. Michael was at her side within two steps, pushing her on her back until her head was as far forward as he could get it in her current position. “Breathe slowly. In. Out. That’s good. Breathe.” He gentled her through the panic attack. It took almost ten minutes to calm her down enough that she was able to breathe normally on her own. Ten tense minutes of Michael’s gentle voice guiding her through it, Jack’s hand rubbing her back in circles, trying to comfort.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make  you react that way.” Jack intoned solemnly when she was at a point to hear it.

 

“I think that is enough excitement for one day.” Michael commented dryly, half glaring at the other brunette male. “See if you can get some rest, Nova. Alright? I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

 

Nova nodded her acquiescence and climbed back into Sara’s bed, slipping under the covers easily. Before the men completely left, she called out to them. “Please...don’t let them…”

 

Jack glanced back at her, barely seeing her in the dim light. “Don’t let them do what?” he asked softly.

 

She wondered how to phrase it so that they wouldn’t think of Cillian again. “I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.” There, hopefully that was vague enough. As her eyes slipped closed, she dearly hoped that everything would work out. _Please… may I keep my family? Please…._

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Cillian sent the text and examined the phone he had in his hand, thinking introspectively. He had a few roles that required more versatile and underhanded thinking in terms of technology. Such was the case when he was cast for the role of Jackson Rippner. Although the story wasn’t complex, the premise was a thriller and the idea didn’t need to be. He just had to convey intrigue with his character who was hired to oversee an assassination of a public figure. But for that story, he played the antagonist and he had to act in a role, where his character had to intimidate a young hotel manager on a red eye flight to Miami to change the room numbers for a politician otherwise his associate would kill her father.

 

It was grim but he played with a shadow of hope for the character where even a villain organizing the death of an entire family questioned the ethics and cost of it. Still, it required investigation. Immersion and speaking with an American accent, which he was versatile in. Knowing that staying off the grid meant that even Sara’s phone could be traced to him through the use of clever virus technology when powered off. And that simply wouldn’t do.

 

So he purchased a prepaid phone that resembled the one he used in the film and took off the back cover of Sara’s phone, removing the SIM card and GPS chip. Safely powered down with disconnected circuits, the phone couldn’t be tracked. He took a deep breath. Twenty four hours. How would he pass the time? He kept moving.

 

“Oh Mr. Murphy, I thought it was you.” A man stepped directly in front of his path. “I’m the biggest fan. You don’t think….” His voice was almost mocking, which put Cillian on edge. “You don’t think I could have your autograph, could I?”

 

“I don’t have time.” The actor said. For any true fan, he would but the way this man spoke, he just knew by tonality he wasn’t being serious.

 

“Oh I suggest you make the time.” The man continued. “You know what I would really enjoy? An autograph in your own blood. Nothing says human more than just the scent of human blood when it’s spilled. But yours…..I can smell her on you. It’s divine.”

 

“Smell who?” Cillian challenged, attempting to remain stoic but feeling all the more disconcerted. He checked passing citizens. Did no one else see him? But then, he felt uncomfortable just looking at him in those initial moments. _Why?_

 

“Now that is the question. Who?” The man continued. “But all you clever people doing your clever things. Having a security field to keep my two girls safe. But you know what electricity also does?”

 

Cillian remained silent as the man adopted a maniacal grin as he held up a small black square with a lighter dark-gray square set in it. Obviously some sort of button, like a fancy garage door opener. “It burns.” A single press of the button. “The townhouse is on fire. Will you ever get back in time?” He challenged as Cillian looked at him in horror before turning in position to run back in the direction of the townhome.

 

“And which girl will you save?” The voice behind him yelled words that engrained themselves onto his very soul, urging his feet to go ever-faster. “Can’t save them both. You’ll have to choose!”

 

The Master only laughed uproariously at the human fleeing in the direction of the fire. He had timed the spark that had traveled down the circuits into the house just perfectly. His girls were likely to live but the staff, those ridiculous guards or the two men appointed by the Doctor would not. _Humans. Degenerate. People crawling all over this planet like insects._ If a few got smashed, how would it matter? People died. That is exactly what people did.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The guards of the estate were incredibly well-trained. They were the best at what they did. They knew the plan for every eventuality, from invasion, to bombing, to sedition, to blockades, and even to infinitely less probable events such as hurricanes. They also took great pride in their appointments, the health of their charges, and finally, but most definitely, the speed in which they could react to a threat. They ran drills every day to refresh their memories on what to do in what case. Only once a month for the more impossible cases, but most were drilled into their minds at least once a week, if not more.

 

The fire plan was so high up the list of possibilities, that they were required by their contracts to look over any updated information as soon as possible, create new plans if needed, and practice the plan at least twice a week. They guarded for every eventuality. Entrances blocked by debris or fire. Floors going out since it was a multiple-story house. Enemies trying to take advantage. They tried to think of everything, so that when the time came they were prepared.

 

When the girls had come under their protection, they had all gainfully added plans and counterplans to try to qualify the two unknown individuals. The plans were updated at least every few days in the beginning as the guards were still learning the girls’ characters and personalities. As the first month of their occupation drew to a close, the security force hadn’t updated the plan for a week and thought that it was probably as good as it could get for the time being.

 

So when the fire broke out at 9:18am on the 16th of June, the security force of the prestigious John Altamont and Mark Gatiss moved like a well-oiled machine. Each small team appointed to a single individual also had a delegated member that was supposed to grab their charge in the event, seeing to it that they got out safely. It was the job of the rest of the team to clear their passage.

 

At 9:24am, the alarm had gone off that smoke had been spotted. The presence of a fire was confirmed by 9:26am and the signal for the fire plan’s initiation was sent. Since John Altamont, Mark Gatiss, Michael Freeman, and John Barrowman had all been in the same location of the first floor sitting room, in the middle of an argument, getting them out had been extremely simple and by 9:28am all four men were secured on the front lawn, overseeing as the townhouse began to go up in flames. With their charges safety practically guaranteed at the moment, the guards turned to helping put out the fire itself.

 

Cillian Murphy ran straight to the group of four, panting harshly, just as he overheard one of the guard’s radios announce in a static mesh, “Sun Team has reached the first floor. ETA 12 seconds.” He looked around frantically for the girls but didn’t see them. “Where are they? Where’s Nova and Sara?” he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the cacophony of sirens, water hoses, others shouting, and the crackle of the fire itself.

 

Just about then, there came a group of three practically running out of the house’s entrance. One was literally carrying Nova, their arms holding her around her middle as she struggled frantically against them even as she, and they, coughed from the smoke they had inhaled.

 

“Nova!” Cillian yelled in relief, pulling her out of the guard’s arms and into his own to hug her in stark happiness. “You’re safe.” Her form was shaking in his arms. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He tried to assure her.

 

Her voice whispered in his ear. “Sara’s still in there. We fooled them, tried to pull them off following you by making them look for her. She’s _still in there._ ” She emphasized, her tone making his chest ache. He could hear the anger, the pain, and… determination? He barely had enough time to register the emotion before her knee found his groin, making him automatically release her and collapse down.

 

She took advantage immediately, silently saying _I’m sorry_ in his direction as she tried to dart between guards to get back into the still-burning building to get her friend. Her best friend, with whom she had lived for the past seven years. For all intents and purposes, the last family member she had...her sister. _I’m not going to let you die!_ She screamed in denial and rage as she felt more arms grab her and hold her back. “Sara! SARA!” She yelled, tears streaming down her face as she twisted this way and that in her desperation to get to her friend.

 

Somehow, she knew, _knew_ , that if she didn’t get to Sara in time, that _everything_ was going to end. It would be catastrophic. For everyone and everything. Honestly, Nova didn’t really give a damn. Her main objective was saving Sara. The apparent fact that rescuing Sara in turn prevented this unknown catastrophe was irrelevant. The rest of the universe would get lucky… she didn’t care about them right now. She had to save  “ ** _SARA!!!_** ”

 

She barely heard as people around her, whom she wasn’t certain, assured her that Sara wasn’t in the house. But they didn’t know. She knew. And she was going to get her sister out of the fire.

 

Her entire being had begun to coil almost as soon as she had been woken by coughing, if not before. As she was fighting the security team, the coiling had steadily tightened until she felt like a trapped spring. Now, as her whole mind focused on the single goal of _Sara_ , Nova heard a mental ‘SNAP!’. The coil sprang outward from her chest, igniting her limbs with trails of liquid metal. Somehow, she knew that this was her chance, the best chance she had. _NOW!_

 

Whoever held her at the moment suddenly got an elbow to their trachea, all of her five foot four inch power she could put into it. She was released and she used all the speed she could get out of her feet to run back into the house, heading straight for where her mind said Sara lay. Nothing else mattered but getting to Sara. Saving Sara.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

Jack gasped as his body once again refused to stay dead. “Nova!” He croaked around his still-healing neck wound. The girl certainly could punch! She had crushed his trachea so thoroughly that he had died from internal bleeding, since she had severed his carotid in the process. However, he was going to be fine again in a couple more minutes. It hurt like hell dying, but he wouldn’t kill him. _Ha!_ Nova, however, could very easily die from smoke inhalation, being burned alive, or crushed by falling debris. “Nova!” He got to his feet shakily to go after her. He was more than surprised when several guards stepped in front of him to block his path.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there. It’s too dangerous.” The one in front said firmly. “The foundation is unstable and we have no idea where she is.”

 

“I don’t care. I’m going in after her!” He had healed enough to straighten his posture, trying to intimidate them with his size.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve got orders.”

 

“God damn your orders! Altamont! Tell these bastards to let me pass!” He yelled out to the man he could see not too far away.

 

John looked over at him and walked over. Mark joined them. “No. Sara has yet to be located. Nova has voluntarily gone into a burning building. You are not leaving our sight.”

 

It took several precious seconds for the full meaning of what Mark stated to register in his mind. “The contract?” He asked incredulously. “You are worried about the _contract_?! She could be dying in there!” He pointed to the building.

 

“By her own choice. At the moment, you are the last and I will _not_ let it collapse completely.” Mark almost growled lowly. “We are on shaky ground as it is, considering we have lost contact with Sara. I will not let you go in there. Let the firemen handle it.”

 

“Are you out of your mind?! It won’t kill me!” Jack bellowed, trying to push his way through again.

 

“Regardless.” John shook his head, siding with his brother.

 

Barrowman had had enough. His mind went red with rage. “That’s it. I’ve had it with you two. I’ve been extremely patient with you both. But this has gone on long enough. I’m enacting Clause 69. _Now!_ ”

 

The brothers knew the contract by heart, having memorized it years before. There were many clauses for every eventuality. Most were only really applicable to the ones who had signed the contract, but there were a few that could be activated by others. Such as Dr. Freeman initiating putting the girls under their protection to begin with. There was another, Clause 69, that entitled those being protected to request immediate attention from the Doctor. The brothers were under contractual agreement that, should Clause 69 be activated, they will instantly stop everything they are doing and call the Doctor, relay the information, and wait for the off-worlder to show up.

 

Considering that Jack could have activated the clause over a month ago and didn’t, though he had certainly stressed they should call the Doctor, the brothers had assumed the other man wasn’t aware of its existence. Just as the girls weren’t. On second thought, based on his personality, Jack had probably been the one to name the clause ‘69’.

 

John flipped open one of the few phones in the entire universe that could make this call and dialed the number by rote. This was not going to be pleasant.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Nova ran as fast as she could go given the circumstances. She had dodged a beam as it fell almost on top of her. She _willed_ her lungs to work, giving her more much-needed oxygen, despite the smokey interior. Oddly, it seemed to be working. She would ponder that later. Now, she needed to find Sara.

 

Her mind was urging her up to the third floor, around to the back of the house where the flames weren’t nearly as bad but it was very smokey, up again to a fifth floor turret, and finally into a room to the side. “Sara?” she called, then louder. “Sara!”

 

“Here!” a muffled voice answered, sounding like bliss to Nova’s ears. “Something’s blocking the door!”

 

Nova ran over to where the precious voice was coming from and instantly saw the problem. The room was apparently used to store tools and a wedge had fallen somehow from a shelf, rolled to a position just in front of the almost-hidden door to an old dumb-waiter, and lodged itself into the floor. The angle in which it had done so meant that opening the dumb-waiter from inside was impossible. “Gimme a sec! I see the problem!”

 

“Hurry! It’s getting really hard to breathe!” Sara’s voice came again. Both girls were coughing. Self-healing didn’t do much good for air problems until damage began to accumulate.

 

It didn’t take long for Nova to shove the wedge sideways to get the impromptu lever out of the way. She slid open the dumb-waiter and eagerly helped Sara out of the little box. Some fire below was feeding the shaft with tons of smoke, which now poured out of the opening. They didn’t bother to shut it. “Let’s get out of here,” they said simultaneously, holding hands as they raced for the stairs to go back down.

 

Only they were stopped by the fire itself. It had reached the stairs and had crept up steadily, engulfing everything in flames. “Is there another way down?” Nova asked. Now that the coiling-spring feeling had dissipated with finding Sara, she was starting to feel exhausted and afraid. But she also still had that _knowing_ the danger wasn’t over; they could still die here, in this house. “You said you had explored top to bottom.”

 

Sara bit her lip as she saw their only way down go up in flames. This tower was used for storage mostly because of exactly that reason. It was very easy to get trapped since there was only one entrance to the upper floors. No windows either. She guessed that the original design of the turret was for imprisonment. She didn’t voice what they both knew.

 

Hazel eyes met periwinkle, each set filled with sorrow, fear, and love.

 

Nova shook her head, grabbed her sister’s hand, and pulled them up the stairs instead, going as high as they could. “There’s got to be a way out!” she declared. She wasn’t going to give up dammit! But everywhere they looked was storage rooms with no windows, and finally they ran out of rooms too. She peered around wildly, searching for the impossible. “There’s got to be a way out!” she said again.

 

“There isn’t,” Sara said simply. She shook her head, pulled Nova into her arms, and held her friend close to her chest. “I love you, Nova. You’ve been my best friend for years. Thank you for staying with me.”

 

Nova choked on tears as she hugged just as fiercely. “I love you too. You might as well be my sister. I’ve thought of you that way for ages.”

 

Sara snorted softly in grim amusement. “Likewise. Shame that this is what it takes for us to admit it.” She gave a deep breath, only to begin to cough roughly at the inhalation of heavy smoke that was reaching them. On the top floor, it was the worst place they could be. But below them was fire; not much better. To die by smoke or burning? She’d die by smoke. It hurt less, she figured. “At least we’ll be with our families.” She murmured, trying to find a silver lining to dying before thirty.

 

The redhead cried sharp sobs. “I don’t want to die. I want us to grow old in the same big house.” She held the brunette, imagining the scenario as she voiced her secret wishes. “I want to grow old surrounded by great-grandchildren playing around me in a rocking chair. Children that have Cillian’s eyes.” The smoke was getting so thick she could barely see two feet away. “His little smirk…”

 

“His laugh is nice too.” Sara commented softly around their coughing fits.

 

“I like his laugh. That look he gets in his eyes when he’s trying to make me laugh.”

 

“Or that roguish grin of his.”

 

“The tilt of his head when he’s trying to be playful.”

 

“Oh and how he can flirt too!”

 

It was at this moment, when both girls were so focused on the same exact thought - Cillian Murphy - that the most extraordinary thing happened. Sara’s entire being began to glow a soft golden, slow at first and then steadily brighter. It was hard to see at first because of the smoke, then because of the fire. However, when the girls - who had long before shut their eyes against the sting of the air - suddenly found themselves outside, the grass under their butts, feet, and legs in their crouched positions, right at Cillian Murphy’s feet, they certainly noticed.

 

They barely registered the fact that apparently they weren’t going to die at all that day, when their eyes rolled back into their heads and they both fainted from a combination of smoke inhalation and extreme exhaustion.

 

Jack and Cillian had caught each girl at the same time, each breathing their own sigh of relief while staring at the men that were supposedly set to be guarding them. John had just placed the phone in his pocket.

 

“We’ll need to move to our secondary penthouse and-”

 

“I would like to offer that they stay at my London home.” Cillian offered. He lived in London as did his family and it had security. He would hire more if that was necessary but considering the two seemed relatively content to stand there leaving Nova’s friend or it seemed sister to die in the estate did not rest well with him. Nova had been hysterical risking her own life to save Sara. Hadn’t Sara risked so much to save him? It wasn’t like him to forget a debt and now he considered Sara a friend. Besides what he had just seen her do was extraordinary. He studied physics for so many of his roles. His in-depth study caused him to decide to become an atheist rather than an agnostic but seeing these girls and their abilities, made him question the limits of his knowledge. Sunshine, he played a physicist that came up with a specialized bomb to activate a dying sun. Red Lights had him investigate psychic accounts. Now….

 

There are things that physicists were theorizing about. The relationship of black holes to the Big Bang. The Multiverse Theory and much else but Sara and Nova, the theories there hadn’t been even broached. So even if at the moment Cillian didn’t quite believe in God, he had hope in something more. Hope of something he couldn’t put a finger on. It was enough for now.

 

“That is hardly necessary.” Mark said.

 

“Is it?” Barrowmen asked. “You were perfectly copacetic with letting Sara die because it was part of the contract.” He breathed. “I would love to explain this to the Doctor that you were willing to play Russian Roulette with his granddaughters. That a human had more compassion than you two demonstrated tonight.”

 

John and Mark froze. The Doctor was still coming. It wouldn’t be pleasant. Nor would their decisions to leave Sara in a burning house. Nova had been screaming at them that Sara was inside, but had assumed she was panicked and not thinking clearly. Barrowman was staring at the two men with a look of knowing in his eyes. Finally, John said, “Very well.” He paused. “They may recover at Cillian Murphy's house but you must discuss with him the aspects and have him sign the contract of confidentiality.”

 

“I will go with them.” Michael said, insistent on their needing a doctor’s care before looking at Cillian. “And thank you for coming back to warn us.”

 

“Of course I would. I care about them.” He glanced at John. “I have more I need to relay but it would be good to wait until we move them both.”

 

“I agree.”

 

The transport had just removed the two girls, Barrowman and Cillian Murphy from the town house. John and Mark also arranged for their own security patrol to follow them. Wearily, task done, they turned to see the smoking remains of the house.

 

“Weeell, fancy seeing you two here.” A familiar voice radiated behind them. “Should I guess? Another associate experimenting on himself? Eating everyone in his wake? No. Not very original. Wait, I see. Burned your own house down, is it?”

 

“Doctor.” Freeman’s voice chided gently, if a bit wearily given all that had happened.

 

“You humans. One simple task and you can’t manage it.” The Doctor paused. “Is John Barrowman still alive?”

 

“He is.” Mark defended. “Quite safe. We relocated him, as well as the girls we put under our protection whom are very… unique.”

 

“Yes, unique.” The Doctor sighed. “Just how unique are they? Psychics? Precognitive?”

 

John took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to get any better by holding back on the truth. “More than that. They are at least a quarter, if not one half, Time Lord by your own DNA sample you had left with us.”

 

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. Of all the things to pull, this was _not_ funny. “That’s not possible. Gallifrey is dead. The Time Lords that escaped….”

 

“Fled to other realities. A few of your children did the very same. Sara and Nova were the result of natural birth but still your grandchildren. Their DNA, on your side is by measure matching several of your key chromosomes. We have attempted to keep them safe. Unfortunately, they have become targets to which we believe is another living Time Lord that knows of their aspirin sensitivity and behavior. We are working around the clock to apprehend them an-”

 

“If he’s a Time Lord, it is my matter to catch him.” The Doctor interrupted abruptly. “But the girls must be returned to me so I can keep them on the TARDIS. They will be the most secure there.”

 

“And that is where we run into a slight problem.” Mark posed succinctly. “To even bring up your name, causes them panic.”

 

“Panic?” The Doctor said astounded.

 

“Panic.” Mark agreed. “They are terrified of you. To such a point, where they became violent and irrational. They needed to be sedated. How would you think they respond to being confined to a TARDIS as it were?”

 

The Doctor was silent.

 

“I do propose a solution. Small steps.” Mark said. “Meet with them slowly. They appear to fear someone called ‘the Valeyard’. Ah, yes, you know him.” He said to the expression on the Doctor’s face. “Consider the girls were raised human,” his voice was glib, “I must say they did not react well when they found out about us.”

 

“My granddaughters.” The Doctor’s voice echoed.

 

“We have behaved by every clause in the contract.”

 

“And you chose not to tell me of our relationship?” The Doctor demanded, his voice had darkened.

 

“Their request. Their demand. For the sake of their mental and emotional health, we acquiesced for the time being.” The brothers explained.

 

“I will consider what you’ve said.” The Doctor told them. “But these are my children by the right of Gallifrey. I have authority to do what I wish.”

 

“And of course, they’ll hate you. In fact, one has already started a relationship. Children are so whimsical. Are you doing the best for you or the best for them?”

 

The Doctor stalked away, back to his TARDIS. “You’re handling of the situation has been far from adequate.” He paused. “One chance. One Warning. That is all I’m willing to give you. But be certain, the next time….I’m so old now. I have far less mercy than I once did.” His statement needed no further explanation.

 

As the brothers watched the ship dematerialize, they both breathed out a slow, deep breath they had anxiously been holding. Yes, that had been unpleasant. Unfortunately, neither believed it was over either.

 

When he was in his TARDIS again, the Doctor stood for several long minutes, just staring at the console. Was it even possible? He did several swift complex calculations. Yes… a very minute possibility existed. Less than 0.0134%, but it did exist. Granddaughters… _two_ of them… and they were afraid of him. Had gone out of their way to ensure their own protectors knew their fear, using that protection in their own favor. He gave a sigh. Yes, they definitely had some of his characteristics. Use the rules in their favor; if not possible, just ignore them completely. How often had he done the exact same thing? Too many to count, certainly.

 

So, he needed a way to approach them gently. If the reason they were afraid was purely because of the Valeyard - he assumed his own children had told them the story, just in case they came across such a version of himself; especially since that version had been known for travelling dimensions - then he needed to act and behave as completely opposite as was conceivable. Fortunately, that wasn’t too difficult. The Valeyard was himself, yes, but a very specific version of himself when he had ignored all the rules and law of time and had gone insane.

 

Insanity had many forms. Wanting to make others hurt as much as you was quite normal. It was only that he was a Time Lord that had allowed the Valeyard the knowledge and capacity to harm _everyone_ and _everything_ as much as he had been himself. It was quite depressing to know that he was capable of such things, if the right circumstances were provided.

 

Though, forewarning was being forearmed. Now that he knew of the Valeyard, he took great pains to ensure the being never resolved into reality again. He had quite a few mental rules - rules he had decided upon for himself, not ones that others had given him - and, as of yet, had not broken one.

 

Good men didn’t need rules.

 

Unfortunately, he had proof that he wasn’t a good man. Had seen the proof with his own eyes and still regretted the decision that had led to such. It took his heart and mind  into dark avenues if he stayed still for too long. He had to keep moving… had to keep the darkness at bay. Having companions helped tremendously. Where was Martha, now that he was thinking about it?

 

He shrugged and began to push a few toggles, switches, flipping levers as he calibrated his awesome ship to scan for Gallifreyan life signs. Swinging the screen over to himself, he analyzed the readings with confusion. Where were they? Oh wait, he had to calibrate for subtler things… they were not full Time Lord. He restructured the scan and had it go again. There!

 

Time to pay his granddaughters a visit. But first… he looked down at himself, saw the state of his clothes and decided that cleaning was in order. First impressions were important, especially to those human-raised.

 

He dashed down the corridor to have a solar-ray bath and find a clean suit, tie, and shoes. Brush his hair and teeth. Probably should grab a bite to eat. What if his stomach growled from such plebian thing as hunger when he was with them? When was the last time he had eaten anyway? Or slept… ? Well, he didn’t need to sleep nearly as much as he had when he was fresh out of Academy. He was fine. Definitely a bath and clean clothes though…

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

**Chapter 13**

 

Nova woke to find herself, still dressed in smoke stained nightdress, curled next to Sara’s slowly-wakening form. However, her heart began to race as she looked around and saw that wherever they were, they weren’t in their former apartment, or anywhere else she recognized. She shook her friend’s shoulder immediately. “Sara! Wake up!” She hissed sharply. “Wake up!”

 

“I’m ‘wake,” the brunette mumbled. Either sleep or exhaustion colored her voice. Hazel eyes slowly blinked open, saw Nova above her, then flicked around. Nova knew the exact moment that Sara registered the same facts that she did, for the other’s eyes widened quickly and she scrambled to get into a seated position. “Where are we?” she struggled to come out of it. She felt so tired, but not as badly as right before they had collapsed.

 

“I don’t know.” Nova answered, whispering in her own turn as well. “I woke up here too only a minute or so ago.”

 

“Do you think whoever set the fire kidnapped us or something?”

 

“I don’t know. The fire was meant to kill. Not sure who was targeted, since we all live there. Maybe they were trying to kill the brothers or Michael.” Nova suggested, hoping it wasn’t yet another attempt on their lives. Who could possibly be targeting them? And why? It didn’t make sense to her.

 

“Well, we need to get out of here.” Sara nodded decisively and swung her legs over the bed and got to her feet.

 

“What if we’re in Jack’s apartment? Or Michael’s? We need to be sure before we make any rash decisions.” Nova stated gently. “Given that this may be a 3rd try to kill us - though I still don’t believe that either - then we need to be sure before accidentally travelling _away_ from safety.”

 

“What do you suggest? Tip toe and easedrop?”

 

“Well, if we are somewhere safe,” Nova said thoughtfully, “then one of our personal guards should be outside the door. Right?”

 

Sara understood what her friend was saying and crept to the door, easing it open with as little noise as possible. Turning the knob ever-so-slowly and inching the door toward her carefully. When it was cracked wide enough that she could peer through, she peeked with one eye and instantly relaxed. Opening the door fully, she smiled at the security agent standing there. “Hi A.J.”

 

“Hello Ms. Thomas. Did you rest well?” the kind man asked. He was their favorite guard, as he was nice and had children of his own.

 

“Yeah. We were freaking out in there because we didn’t recognize the room though.”

 

“Ah. Sorry about that. We are currently guests of Mr. Murphy, in his London flat. He and Mr. Barrowman are in the kitchen at the moment, if you would like to join them.”

 

Sara turned and called over her shoulder. “Hey Nova! Did you hear that? Your boyfriend is housing us!”

 

Nova blushed bright red as she hissed, “He’s _not_ my boyfriend! We haven’t even had a date!”

 

“I’d call slow dancing for over a half hour a date.” Sara grinned cheekily. “He probably does too.”

 

Nova blinked at that. “Really?” Such social customs were news to her.

 

“Yes, really. Now, let’s go get something to eat. I’m so hungry I could eat a… something big.” Sara lost her train of thought in the middle as she focused on finding nourishment.

 

The two girls were able to make themselves a plate of food buffet-style from the Chinese takeout the men had ordered. Jack and Cillian had also gone to the trouble of tasting each dish to make sure that no poisons were in them. A simple chemical test they had called Michael for had proven no aspirin as well. So the girls could eat without fear of such things. Nearly twenty minutes later, and much more content, they all were startled out of their thoughts by a knock at the door.

 

Security immediately shot to look through the peephole. This was highly suspicious since the apartment guard had not called up to let them know someone was heading their direction.

 

Cillian moved to the door as well, since it was his apartment he would probably know anyone in the building. “Who is it?” he called out.

 

“Delivery.” The voice returned. “You ordered a selection of clothes for rush handling. This is your order, isn’t it, sir?”

 

A copy of his harried telephone order into Harrods was displayed in front of him and Cillian gave a brief nod, but beckoned to Jack and another security guard.

 

“Very well. I’ll sign for it.” He had no intention of letting the man inside his flat, legitimate delivery or otherwise. But as soon as he released the chain, his hand out for the order, a hand took his wrist.

 

“I have to insist.” A voice seemed to echo outside his mind and Cillian seemed to just freeze in place.

 

“Cillian what’s-” Jack cut off his inquiry with a slight curse at seeing the Doctor’s presence. Luckily the two girls were still inside the kitchen. “A.J., stay with Nova and Sara. Try to keep them where they are.”

 

“Yes, sir.” The guard acknowledged before returning.

 

“John.” The Doctor said. “It’s been too long.”

 

“A year, give or take.” Barrowman raised his eyebrows. “They call me Jack now. The name has grown on me I think.”

 

“Jack.” The Doctor nodded. “It suits you.” He swallowed, seeing his former companion. Oh, how he wished they could both venture off in their TARDIS now but the Doctor knew after a week, he would start to have the symptoms again. So, he was cursed to only be in his presence for a day or two at a time. How could his granddaughters handle it? _They are part human._ He thought. He had also seen the tests on Sara. In a particular sense, she was a TARDIS and she formed a link with Nova. The energy signature used to keep John…. _or Jack_ from dying wasn’t the same. Her chromosomes and cells constantly evolved and while Nova was linked to Sara, to an extent, hers did too. It was fascinating. Nova’s telepathic gifts and Sara’s abilities, complementing each other. He couldn’t wait to meet them.

 

“Doctor, I know what you came for but now isn’t a good time.” Jack said, a look of sorrow on his face. “I’m saying this as your friend. As one of your best friends. I’m trying to talk them around to the idea but you need to be patient. They begged me, begged John and Mark not to hand them over to you. It’s not just the…” He made his voice very quiet. “The Valeyard they’re scared of.” He shook his head. “Do you realize that Nova is so terrified of that possible timeline she’s afraid to even say the name? That he might come if she does? A bit like a Wendigo.”

 

“But she doesn’t know me. The Doctor.” He protested. “Neither of them do.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not here to drag them out of the flat and onto the TARDIS. I just want to talk. Just to say hello. That’s all for now.”

 

“And later?” Jack asked. “You ever heard of the Time Lord Victorious?”

 

The Doctor frowned, looking puzzled. The Valeyard he knew. The Time Lord Victorious he didn’t.

 

“Sara knows about it. She says it’s the one step that happens before you become the Valeyard. You say all the rules of time are yours…”

 

The Doctor hissed at the notion. Too many Time Lords had tried the same. Rassilon had dementia and declared such with the Final Sanction. He was willing to destroy the entire universe. “That isn’t me.”

 

“Not yet. How long has it been since you lost her?” Jack asked pointedly. The Doctor was silent. “They call her Rose. Appropriate isn’t it? It was her favorite flower. The bedroom she slept in….”

 

“Months.” The Doctor responded brokenly. “Seems like years.” He sighed. “Humans. Their lives seem so short but when you lose someone, even a human, every hour, every day, seems like infinity no matter where I travel. Even with Martha….”

 

“Wait.” Jack frowned. “Where is Martha?”

 

The Doctor froze. He wasn’t sure. Suddenly he remembered. Had his head gotten too full already? “The estate.” He remarked triumphantly.

 

“You left your brand new human companion at a burned down targeted estate with two men that you told me you don’t fully trust; whom you have to keep in line with a contract?!” Jack closed his eyes. He may not have the years the Doctor had but sometimes his decisions lacked…..foresight.

 

“There’s a condition in our agreement for my companions, to ensure their safety while travelling with me.” The Doctor countered.

 

“Oh, I just bet they stuck her somewhere for ‘safekeeping’.” Jack muttered, dialing his phone only to glance up. The Doctor had left the room and Cillian was observing Jack, remaining silent all the while.

 

“I suppose he’s a relative.” Cillian gathered.

 

“A good observation.” Jack said. “I have a call to make. Do you mind interceding before they start turning the kitchen upside down?”

 

Cillian nodded simply, turning in place and heading in the direction of the kitchen. He winced, already hearing the sound of a dish hitting a nearby wall as it shattered. This didn’t sound like a pleasant family reunion.

 

Jack was on the phone with John. “Now, what have either of you two done with Martha?”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The Doctor ducked as the thrown plate nearly collided with his head. “Sara, if you can just calm down….”

 

“No!” She shrieked. “Get out of here. I want nothing to do with you. We want nothing to do with you.”

 

He had to dodge another plate, advancing towards the pair. Nova fled out of the kitchen in terror and he suddenly turned in effort to pursue her.

 

“You leave her alone!” Sara cried out. “Just leave her….!” Suddenly a bolt of sheer blue energy left her hand, sending him staggering against the table and onto the floor. The Doctor was wincing briefly from the fall as Sara stared at her hands in horror. “Oh my God.” She muttered, shaking. She was a freak. And now she was a freak that could hurt people. “Oh my….” She ran out of the room following Nova’s trail.

 

“Nova!” The Doctor called out. “Sara!”

 

“Is that what you call diplomacy?” Cillian asked icily, entering the kitchen. He was terribly unimpressed. He gave the Doctor a withering stare and with the full use of that crystalline gaze giving such a menacing glare, it was difficult not to feel intimidated. “I wonder how the infamous contract was negotiated with such politics at your disposal.” His flat, mocking tone made the Doctor wince. Cillian shook his head and followed the girls, intent on getting to them before they did something dangerous. Like leave the apartment. “It is my understanding that you were called to help track down the one that is trying to kill them. The fire will be the third attempt on their lives.” He heard a sharp inhalation behind him, but close enough that he knew the other male was not too far away. “Scaring the girls into leaving the safety of the apartment would not be wise.”

 

“I didn’t want to scare them. I just wanted to meet my granddaughters. Is that too much to ask?” A deep sigh.

 

Cillian turned around in the middle of his own hallway to stare down the slightly taller man. It was apparently his own turn to try to talk some sense into the individual. “Sara’s worst nightmare is the individual she calls the Valeyard. At the very mention of the name, Nova went into such hysterics that she couldn’t understand the fact she was safe, even expecting him to turn up in her own home. Both had to be sedated in order to calm down. Nova has seen the Valeyard at work with her own eyes, hence her utter terror. Sara has experience with a version called the Time Lord Victorious. Both of the people the girls are so frightened of are _you_ ; different versions of _you_. They are so scared that they cannot think rationally at the very _idea_ of these other versions. The real version standing before them is not going to help.

 

“Supposedly, you are a very intelligent man.” Cillian raised an eyebrow in challenge. “If you truly care for the girls as your family, then you should want what is best for them.” Before the Doctor could protest that he wanted exactly that, Cillian held up a hand to forestall him. “What is best for them right now is for you to find the one that wants them dead, whom even the considerable resources of Altamont and Gatiss have had no luck in tracking, and to then show that you are neither of the versions of you in which they are afraid by handing the culprit over, for the girls themselves to deliver justice.” Murphy finished, reasonably he thought.

 

The Doctor had narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the man, pondering what he had heard. He suddenly had no doubt that this was the one that Nova was infatuated with, which made this situation all the more delicate. Finally he replied, “Only with experience will they realize I’m not the Valeyard or the Time Lord Victorious.”

 

“Precisely. You can start with delivering their tormentor to them for justice.” Cillian gave a very sharp, decisive nod, and went back to his original course of following the girls, considering the matter closed. However, when he went the room he had assigned the girls, he opened the door and had the profound urge to curse. He spun around and ran down the hall, pushing the Doctor out of his way as he passed him. “Jack!” he yelled.

 

Jack was just getting ready to get off the phone with John when he heard Cillian’s shout. He pulled the mobile away and stared at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nova used her new-found strength to force open the window in their bedroom. Sara too, along with A.J.” Cillian reported grimly.

 

“Damn!” Jack hissed, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Did you hear that? Do a sweep. While A.J. is with them, if whoever is doing this really is a Time Lord, incapacitating a human won’t take much effort. Especially if they stop trying to be subtle.” He paused to listen and spoke again, “Because they are scared stiff of him, that’s way! Considering Nova’s reaction alone, I’m amazed the girl waited long enough for Sara to accompany her, if they went together and Sara isn’t gone because she discovered Nova missing. Then instead of them running together we’d have one running aimlessly in terror and the other giving chase, heedless of whatever happened to be in her path. A.J. probably doing his best just to keep them in sight.” He flipped the phone closed with a snap of his fingers and glared at the Doctor, who had the decency to school his features into regret. “Martha is on  her way. When she gets here you are going to take her and find whoever is trying to kill the girls before they take advantage of the situation and try again when the girls are vulnerable.” He hissed in the Doctor’s face, his whole form almost shaking in his anger. “All you had to do was listen to me and we would have avoided all of this.”

 

The Doctor winced, nodded his understanding, and left to go find his TARDIS.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Nova ran and ran and ran and ran and ran until she had no more breath to run. She had no idea where she was, how far she had gone, or what time it was. She didn’t really much care either. She collapsed into a side alley, shivering in reaction as she huddled on the ground, her arms around her knees. He had almost touched her! Had almost got her! She sobbed brokenly into her kneecaps, shoulders shaking as she tried to cry and catch her breath at the same time.

 

A thick male tenor Scottish accent came to her ears, “Och, ya poor wee lassie. What’s all these tears, then?” She looked up but tears blurred her vision so all she could see were moving blobs of color. Whoever it was knelt to her side and pulled her unprotesting form into their skinny arms to hold her close. Giving her what comfort they were able. “What fashes ya so, lassie? You tell ol’ Alec then, lassie. We’ll see what aught can be done ‘bout it.” His brogue was so thick she had difficulty understanding him at times.

 

But his voice and tone reminded her of her grandfather, so after a moments of hesitation, she told a highly-edited version of the story. “I saw something when I was younger that I shouldn’t have. A man murdered people and I was made to watch.”

 

“Och ya poor wee lassie,” he whispered sympathetically. His hands - one on her back and one on her upper-arm - rubbed her soothingly.

 

“The spitting image of that same man just tried to grab my arm. I was so scared that I ran, jumped out the window of my bedroom, and just ran for as long as I could.” She admitted. “I know it wasn’t _really_ him, but I still can’t help but be afraid.”

 

“Ya can’t help what ya feel, lass. It’s just the way t’ings are. However, what cha can do is try to see passed the man yur er afraid of and try to see who really approached ya. Mayhap they aren’t the same man a’tal.” Alec wisely stated. “Now, how bouts we go to my little cottage down the road a ways and have a nice spot of kippers and tatties. Help ya clean your eyes a wee. And me wife always has a bit of bangers hidden away. I bets we can find ‘em if we look hard enough.” He cajoled her, helping her get to her feet.

 

She let out a soft giggle at the image he conveyed. “There now,” his voice held a nice smile. “What a nice smile you have there lassie. I bet yur beaux likes that smile of yorn.”

 

She blushed and shook her head, looking down at her toes in embarrassment. “We’re not official or anything. It’s only been one date.”

 

The male voice that intruded was thoughtful, but pleased. “Really? How fortunate. I was so hoping of such things, but considering how much he smelled like you I did wonder.” The voice was so close that she startled, but the arms tightened around her securely. She looked up and ‘ol Alec’ had changed into a much younger blonde male with blue eyes. A glamour? A shimmer? Something that gave a false image. And the accent! “I’m almost wondering who could scare you more than little me, hmm? Running out of the apartment right after I set the townhouse on fire to get rid of your protectors. Didn’t kill them, unfortunately, but as I still have you in my arms, I suppose that it will have to do. And don’t worry about Sara. She should be along shortly.” He gave her a boyish smile that did nothing to sooth her surging fears.

 

“Who are you?” she whispered, wondering who in the universe the man could be. Rassilon? Omega? The Great Intelligence? Moriarty? _Who?_

 

“Oh my dear. That human DNA has corrupted your mind if you haven’t figured it out already. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that soon enough.” He was basically dragging her down the street by this time, toward a door she hadn’t noticed when passing the first time. As it didn’t look like an ordinary door she wondered if a perception filter was around it.

 

His words had also put a chill down her spine at the implications. “Why are you doing this?” she wanted to sob, but managed to get the words out relatively without emotion. He looked down at her with a boyish grin that froze her heart. She _knew_ that smile. It was a very particular smile that one individual had carried throughout his regenerations.

 

“Oh, so many reasons my dear. We’ll collect Sara and the Doctor and it will all be made clear.”

 

She couldn’t help it. A tear slipped down her cheek. Out of the fire and into the boiling water. Both would kill her. “Please, Koshei -” she cried out in pain as the hand on her arm tightened enough she feared her very bones would be crushed.

 

“ _Don’t call me that.”_ His hissing response in her ear made her nod frantically in acquiescence, trying to get him to ease up on her. As soon as she agreed, he was back to that boyish smile, dragging her through the metal framed door, halfway pushing her in front of him. “Don’t worry my dear. Soon…” his voice paused as he allowed her to take in the room in which she found herself. She knew that her face had drained of color at the sight of the advanced medical bay. “Soon, you will have difficulty remembering anything that I didn’t put in your mind myself.”

 

She tried to scream, fight, and run, but it was no use. She didn’t even get six inches before his age, speed, and strength caught her, dragged her to the metal slab and strapped her down even as she screamed. As the best telepath Gallifrey had, she had no doubt he could follow through with his threat. With his partial sanity, she also had no doubt that not only was he capable of such a thing but was also willing to commit such a vile act.

 

Killing her would have been kinder.

 

Though, in a way, he was planning on doing exactly that.

 

She continued to scream as his hands made contact with her temples and her world went dark.

 

The Master smiled. When he was finished with all four, oh, the fun they would have with this planet. A slave race once they were done with them. Yes once all four came to his way of thinking….he continued his work throughout Nova’s mind. It had been fortunate the girls had run from the Doctor in time. Neither one had made the slightest physical contact. _Very reassuring._

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

**Chapter 14**

 

Sara jogged down the street. She had felt Nova slightly in her mind. The intense flash of her pain before….nothing. What happened?

 

“Ms. Morganson! Ms. Thomas!” A.J. called out for them. Sara shook her head. She would only be hampered by security.

 

“Nova...what is happening?” She hissed, feeling a distant intrusion just inside her skull. Whatever was happening to Nova, this was an echo. It was how it worked between the two of them. Sara didn’t know why but it just did. “Someone is…..Nova….” She struggled to speak. A man stepped directly in front of her.

 

“Hello Sara.” The Doctor said as Sara stared up in shock. “Bit of a headache? I’ve been watching you.”

 

“Get away from me!” Sara backed away. “You’re the reason….”

 

“Oh, I know. I’m the reason you’re in all in this trouble in the first place. But then, you know Nova’s in trouble and I’m the only one that can help.”

 

“I don’t want your help.” She spat.

 

“I know.” The Doctor said sadly. “But at the moment you need it. I had hoped to take this slowly, but considering who we are dealing with, we’ve run out of time.” He advanced quickly towards his granddaughter. She bolted but he had already seized hold of her, wrapping his arm around her as he gently placed his fingers on her temple. She screamed, fighting as much as she could.

 

“This won’t hurt if you just relax,” he advised. He knew who likely would have his other granddaughter but he couldn’t find a definitive location. However, if he knew his once old friend, he would be trying to usurp his granddaughter’s mind. And through Nova’s, Sara’s.

 

So fully activating their familial bond was the only defense to buy any measure of time against the Master. One activated, he would use the bond powered by the three Time Lords with him in headship to thwart the Master’s control.

 

But Sara was now simply crying out in agony. The center of their minds where the bond stood was only partially awakened. This would be a painful procedure for them all.

 

 _But….it’s Nova’s only chance….._ the Doctor thought as he rushed to set up all the measures for the family bond. He readied himself for a fight. “I’m so sorry, Sara. Please, relax as much as you can. It’ll be less painful for you if you don’t fight it.” He muttered, doing his best to ease the pain she felt by partially blocking the pain center of her brain. It wouldn’t do much, but it should cut her agony down to levels she would be able to handle. More like a migraine than a pike through her skull. Though there were some that would argue a migraine was a knife through the head. It was the best he could do.

 

After he blocked as much of the pain as he could, he set up Sara’s mental defenses - which, given the time crunch, was basically overlaying his own onto her mind. Then, he hunted for Sara’s connection with Nova; the bright golden thread like a beacon in her mind. “Take a breath. This will make you dizzy.” He grasped the thread in hand and _tugged_. The action forced a mental projection of Nova, and thus her tormentor, into Sara’s mindscape.

 

What he saw didn’t fill him with confidence.

 

Nova knelt on the floor in clothes more reminiscent of Gallifreyan attire than her own blue jeans and airy blouse ensemble in which he had last seen her only a scant hour before. Seemed the Master had already managed to do some damage. Fortunately, he seemed not able to do much - or didn’t want to go so far - as the tunic was the same light green as her former blouse and the underobe the same dark blue as the jeans. Different, and yet the same, simultaneously.

 

He hoped this meant that either Nova was fighting or the Master didn’t want her completely changed. That her memories were just stored somewhere and not transposed. She was still in there somewhere… hopefully. Otherwise… Nova might as well be given a different name, since she would fundamentally be a completely disparate individual. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to know where the ‘new’ memories were and where the ‘old’ memories had begun.

 

As he was taking in these details, Sara cried out to her sister despite any pain she was in herself. “Nova!” When the redhead didn’t even twitch, Sara rounded on him. “What’s wrong with her? What did you do?!”

 

“Ah, that would be _my_ doing, my dear.” The Master’s honeyed voice announced as he walked out of the darkness, having followed Nova’s pull. “She can’t hear you right now. Well… she can, but she doesn’t have permission to pay attention to anything except me.” He smiled boyishly. Sara wanted to vomit at his words; the meaning made even clearer as Nova turned only her head to watch the Master… _her_ Master… her position on the floor unchanged.

 

When he stopped at her side, he put his hand through her hair as if he was petting her and she tilted her head upward in acceptance, wanting more of his touch. “You see? Her world now revolves around me. She won’t notice anything else.” He didn’t mention that he had made exceptions to ensure the girl could, and _would,_ move if her own life was threatened, but only to get to his side. “My wish is her command,” he grinned down at his creation. To save time, since he knew he had to move quickly against the Doctor, he had simply shut all her memories in a box under lock and key. Creating new ones that would cater the girl to his wishes.

 

Nova was currently a pet. Or thought she was. Honestly, the Master didn’t want a pet. He wanted a family, but first he would have to bring the other two into his influence to be able to create what he truly wanted. That would involve manipulating them to the best of his ability. Since Nova was the best way to do that currently, he would do so.

 

“What good is a pet?” Sara challenged. “Certainly not entertaining to someone like you. No, you want the real deal.”

 

“Sara.” The Doctor admonished.

 

“Oh no, Doctor, I’m amused. Please,” The Master outstretched his hands. “Keep going.”

 

“I’m pretty sure what you crave is family. Wouldn’t I be far more fun as family than Nova?” Sara clenched her jaw. “If it’s children you’re after or….”

 

“I like your spirit.” The Master said. “And you propose what? An exchange?”

 

“No.” Sara said. “I know you won’t give up Nova but on Gallifrey, polygamy is banned. You can only marry once. So why not me?”

 

“I forbid it!” The Doctor yelled. “I absolutely forbid it!”

 

“I’ll consent myself.” Sara offered. “He can’t forbid that.”

 

The Master beamed. What wondrous luck. The family bond that had come into play had been an unfortunate setback but getting Sara’s permission. He couldn’t get Nova’s. Not in the way he wanted to made a bonding valid.

 

“And you have terms in mind.” He narrowed his eyes.

 

“Fix Nova and I’ll bond with you.” Sara told him as she watched him take out a spool of ribbon conjured in this very realm as he looked at Sara with careful eyes. “Don’t believe me? I consent and gladly give.” She gave the first words of the marriage vows. The Doctor was still yelling but finally the Master nodded. “I’ll return her mind for now.” He paused. “But bonded or not, any tricks, I will know. I’ll see them in your mind. You won’t be able to hide a single thought from me.”

 

“Oh, of course you’ll know.” Sara said with some disgust as she watched the Master touch Nova’s temples. In those moments, her friend’s face had cleared.

 

He turned to look back at Sara. “My part of the bargain has been done. Time for yours.” He said the sacred words for the marriage vow that would bond him to Sara.

 

“Sara!” Nova cried out in alarm. “What are you doing?”

 

“I consent and gladly give.” Sara told him again. The Master’s smile widened as he started to feel for her mind. He reached out and touched her but his hand went through her arm. He started to feel fuzzy. Sara’s features became blurry and less distinct. Suddenly a decaying emptiness, so vast inside him, perpetrated everywhere. He collapsed, starting to dream while all of a sudden, the Doctor merely stood in Sara’s place. It was he who had conjured up a vision of Sara and convince him into marriage but it was bonding to a dream shadow. An empty shell. A desperate attempt to save his granddaughter. This was bound to make the Master more insane than ever but if he had to choose between his granddaughters and the Master, it would be his family every time.

 

The Master was sobbing, suffering a pain so far worse than that of death. The Doctor glanced at Nova. “See if you can wake up and find a way out.”

 

Nova disappeared while the Master simply stayed there sobbing wretchedly. “I’m sorry.” The Doctor said. “But they were my kin. I had to choose.”

 

A faint voice in between the racking sobs. A threat. “I’ll burn you.” The Master told him harshly, clearly saying it wasn’t over. “I’ll burn the heart out of you. And every single person you love.”

 

“You have to leave here first.” The Doctor said quietly before slowly waking. The agony that the Master was suffering could persist from weeks to months. There was no way to tell.

 

In the interim, Sara finally collapsed from the pain. Picking her up, he wandered a few steps before running into Cillian and AJ.

 

“You found Sara.” Cillian said. “And Nova?”

 

“I think I’m close but Sara…”

 

“I’ll take her back to my flat.” Cillian told him. He still didn’t trust him, but if he could get Nova back alive… “Just find Nova.”

 

“Oh, I will.” The Doctor fervently swore as he moved away to do exactly that.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Nova opened her eyes slowly, carefully. She was still laying on the same metal table, strapped down at her wrists, chest, waist, and ankles. She thought it was called an 8-point system or something. Then wondered why she was thinking about such things when she should be worrying about escaping… Where was the Master?

 

Turning her head slightly came up with a lump of fabric to one side of the table. The Master had collapsed where he had stood, just falling straight down. Occasionally, she heard a small whimper of sound, but other than that he didn’t move or speak.

 

Nova went about using her ability to analyze situations to try to use the fingers of the hand furthest from the Master to _quietly_ begin to manipulate the strap holding that wrist. If she could get one wrist, then she could get the other and two hands would make the rest cake. Theoretically. But her plan depended on him not catching her. Discretion was the better part of her getting away.

 

Slowly, keeping her eyes on the crumpled form of the Master, she carefully worked the buckle lose. By the time it slid free, her fingers and wrist were aching from the angle she had to hold her hand to get it to work. It had taken probably over ten minutes. The Master still hadn’t moved an inch, though she did finally see a very small shaking of his form.

 

Whatever the Doctor had done - and she actually wasn’t quite sure what that was - it had hurt the Master to the point of debilitation. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

 

Once she had her right hand free, she worked as quickly - and silently - as possible to free the left. Then the one across her chest. Next her waist. Now came the tricky part… her ankles couldn’t be reached without sitting up. Which may make the fabric squeak against the table. She’d have to either move as fast as she could, or stick to trying slow movements. Considering that Time Lord could move quickly enough to avoid lightning hitting them if need be, she’d go the tortoise route. Slooooowwwwlyyyyy she sat up, eased herself down and began to undo the ankle straps. Once both were unlocked, now it was time to get off the table.

 

Still, the Master hadn’t moved an inch. Still collapsed. Still making tiny pained noises every once in awhile. Careful not to make any noise to distract him from his agony and bring that massive temper of his onto her, she tried to get down. It was not as easy as she wished. It was just high enough that she would either have to jump - which would make noise on the landing and dismount - or try to slide down on her stomach - and just turning around on the table would make things ping from the metal bits on her jeans connecting with the metal table.            

 

Either way, it wasn’t looking good. She was just frozen on her knees, not knowing which option was worse, when the door opened with a bang. There was the Doctor, looking both worried and thunderous. His eyes landed on her first, swept the room, then came into contact with the Master’s form, which made them narrow. She could see the war in his eyes: deal with the Master or get her?

 

Finally, he came to a decision. Which basically, apparently, amounted to ‘both’. He strode to the hunched clothes-pile, took out a set of high-tech futuristic handcuffs, and attached them to the Master’s wrists, which he made sure was secured behind his back. Then he lifted the other Time Lord in a fireman’s carry. “Nova?”

 

“Coming,” she answered instantly. He would take the Master and lock him up on his ship. As the last Time Lord, and former Lord President, it was his responsibility. But, she why did she still have this bad feeling in the pit of her stomach? Something bad was coming…and whatever it was, they were headed right for it instead of avoiding it like the Doctor and Sara may be thinking. 

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

“Can’t trust….” Sara muttered as she started to open her eyes. “Nova!” She bolted upright in bed, looking around.

 

“It’s alright.” Jack’s voice was calm. “They’re bringing her back.” He took Sara’s hand as she fell back on her bed with a groan. “Sara, you’re safe.”

 

“It’s him.” Sara managed, feeling the headache radiate through her skull. “He’s inside my head. Our head.”

 

“Who is?” Jack narrowed his eyes.

 

“The Doctor. He forced me to….” Sara started. “Forced us to…” She closed her eyes, remembering the agony of his mind forcing his way into hers. And a part of him was still there. Her mind felt as though it had been pried open and apart. Pieces of it forced out of dormancy, awakened but livid. As though she had just received an open wound and had a cup of iodized salt dumped directly onto it.

 

The door opened as Nova walked inside and Sara, forgetting her pain, pushed herself off the bed to embrace her friend only to pull her back away from the Doctor who also entered the premises.

 

Oh, she remembered. She recalled what the Doctor did and then the mindscape. How after Sara initially called out to Nova she was suddenly frozen and only an observer as she watched the Doctor use her mental image like a puppet. It was her but it wasn’t. A shadow of some kind that spoke to bait the Master.

 

When she saw the image propose a marriage to the insane person, Sara tried to scream, tried to shout but she couldn’t do anything. She was utterly immobile and suppressed. Unable to move. It was terrifying. The hold wasn’t released until the Master fell and Nova disappeared from the mindscape.

 

 _He used me. Used us. That’s all we are. We’re puppets and…._ She felt Nova’s mind far more clearly. _It wasn’t enough….something else is out there and it’s….._

 

“Go away.” She commanded. “Leave us alone.” She held tightly onto Nova.

 

The Doctor sighed. “Sara, I was only trying to help. He won’t hurt you anymore. The Master….”

 

Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath them. Items fell to the floor. Two mugs hit the ground and shattered on the hardwood.

 

“What….?” Nova started. “Is it an earthquake?” London had a couple minor fault lines. She hoped that was all it was but she had a bad feeling.

 

Cillian raced inside the room. “Not an earthquake. An explosion. The BBC. One of their major studios.”

 

“Was….” Sara felt faint. “Was anyone hurt?”

 

“Not so far,” was his response. His expression grim. What did that mean?

 

“Not so far?” Nova asked Cillian quietly.

 

“John Altamont and Mark Gatiss called to claim responsibility. They have hostages and are demanding you fulfill your contractual obligation.”

 

“The Master,” The Doctor intoned carefully, almost resigned. “He must have had recent direct contact to influence…..or…..” He thought of Sara’s story and her character Moriarty. How similar he was to the Master. The implications. Repeated exposure and the Master’s vision of a New Gallifrey.

 

“Sara, how many times have you planned for Sherlock to encounter Moriarty?”

 

“But that’s mostly fiction.” Sara defended instantly, angrily. “It’s….” Her head pounded. Why would the two men who were protecting them suddenly act like…..but then she remembered in the episode how Moriarty attempted to convince the public that Sherlock was a fake. That he used and created Moriarty as a nemesis for drama. Like a puppet. In truth, it was Moriarty who was attempting to be the puppeteer.

 

“He’s the main nemesis.” Sara admitted. “He uses people for entertainment. Like puppets because he’s bored. He’s present in almost every story since the third book. Even in his dreams.”

 

The Doctor gave a hiss. “I need to get back to the TARDIS. If I’m right….”

 

“If you’re right, what?” Jack asked.

 

“The Master’s consciousness is not contained. He’s able to leave his mind, divide and influence at will.”

 

“Mind bending?” Nova asked, remembering how Time Lord wrestling was described.

 

“I suppose.” The Doctor said quickly. “But with humans, they’re not naturally telepathic. Really no competition, is there?” Now wasn’t the time to dally. He needed to get back to where he had imprisoned the Master. He turned to go, leaving the girls with Jack and Cillian. Both men had emphasized several times, that the girls didn’t trust him and needed to be given their space. He didn’t exactly agree, but at the moment was grateful. He didn’t want them any closer to the Master than absolutely necessary. “Keep them safe, Jack.”

 

“Will do, Doctor.” Barrowman answered out of sheer habit as he watched the Time Lord exit. He hadn’t planned on doing anything else. The girls were practically family at this point. Little sisters or something. He cared about them a great deal.

 

Nova wrung her hands silently, not knowing what to do. “Should we follow him? Help the brothers?”

 

“You should rest. You were in the Master’s clutches too. You’ve got to be tired.” Sara insisted, concern for her friend written all over her face.

 

“I feel fine,” Nova shrugged in answer. “He didn’t do anything physically. At least, I don’t think so. I feel just like I always do.” Of course, that didn’t really mean much. She was guessing. Just like they were all guessing at such things. She had been told to stay outside of the ship while the Doctor had put the Master is a stasis lock prison. He hadn’t wanted the possibility that the Master would get away from him and get to her yet again. So, while Nova kind of wanted a medical examination from the TARDIS, just in case something _had_ been done that she didn’t know about, she had waited outside patiently, not putting one toe inside the ship.

 

The Master was one of the best scientists and telepaths that Gallifrey had to offer. There was really no telling what suggestions, commands, or modifications he had done to her mentally or physically. They would have no confirmation one way or another until she was examined by a professional. Dr. Freeman was a good starting point, but considering that most of the equipment and procedures the Master had access too were beyond the doctor’s capabilities, it wasn’t certain either.

 

Her fear of the Doctor was nil. It was the Scary Doctor she was terrified of. As long as she was absolutely certain he _wasn’t_ the Scary Doctor, she had no problems with him examining her. Time sensitive she may be, but stupid she was not. At the moment, the Doctor was her best chance of making sure she wasn’t a ticking time bomb.

 

A shiver went down her spine at the idea she may accidentally hurt her hard-earned family. And what about Cillian? She didn’t want to hurt him either… “What are we going to do?” she asked again, jerking herself out of her depressing thoughts.

 

“That won’t get the brothers killed?” Sara replied with a shrug. She too didn’t want them to be casualties of the Master’s crusade for a new Gallifrey but Nova’s sanity was at risk with what the Master and the Doctor dually had done. Her head pounded.

 

“And what if it’s me?” Nova asked Sara pleadingly. “I don’t remember everything and what if the Master put something in me that….” Her words seemed to drift.

 

“It’s not.” Sara told Nova squeezing her hand. “We...I can feel you better. Can’t you feel me? And him?”

 

“Yes,” Nova admitted, begrudgingly to the Doctor’s presence that had been a startling surprise, which had broken her free of the Master’s restraint. She knew the Doctor had used Sara in some way to implement that and would have a few things to say about it but his actions weren’t the ones of the Scary Doctor. If she had to consider, he acted in fear for their safety, her safety and did something he thought at the moment would be an immediately necessity. Like doing a rush tracheotomy on someone who was about to die from blocked access to their windpipe. Painful but very necessary to help the person survive.

 

Perhaps she had talked to Dr. Freeman a few times too many but she did like him so well. Also Cillian had a great mind for medical science and theoretical physics. But, he did so much research, months of it at a time to a devoted study. She knew he always had a fascination for physics, which drove some of his beliefs.

 

“Yes,” Nova repeated. “But Sara, then we know he’s not the…..’Scary Doctor’. You know that right?”

 

Sara paused, looking at Nova and finally nodded. Yes, she did know that. “You’re right. He’s not the ‘Scary Doctor’.” She was careful. She didn’t want to scare Nova anymore than she was after all that she had gone through. “I can feel that but Nova….it’s hard for me to trust him.”

 

“I know.” Nova told her. “But….if he’s the Doctor, I want to make sure nothing’s wrong with me and….” She let out a breath. “If I asked you to go with me to the TARDIS just so he can make sure, will you support me? Will you come with me? Make sure nothing goes wrong.”

 

Sara paused, feeling her heart pound with the remnant of fear but she pressed her shaking hands together. The Doctor could have locked them both up on his TARDIS if he had a mind to. He didn’t have to return Nova. So….that was something. Finally, she spoke.

 

“Yes, I’ll go with you but Nova,” She made sure she had the other girl’s attention. “I’ll get onto his silly little box and make sure he doesn’t step an inch out of place but on the condition he give his word before we step inside, he’ll let us both out when we’re done.” She knew his word was obligatory. A contract. He wouldn’t break a solemn oath.

 

“I would have done the same thing, Sara.” Nova’s voice was filled with relief. “Jack, Cillian, will you come too?”

 

“Are you sure you want my presence?” Cillian asked, taking a step towards Nova and as the two made eye contact, the embrace that followed seemed so wholly natural as did the subsequent light kiss that filled Nova’s cheeks with a blush that was nearly crimson.

 

“Of course, I want you there.” Nova told him, that small amount of joy just starting to ripple through her. Now, she was glad she waited all those years. It was likely worth it to meet someone like Cillian.

 

Sara only quietly glanced at Jack who looked at her with amusement but also that bit of joy they both felt. She was happy for Nova. Even though Sara was trying to figure out if she even wanted romance in her life, Nova had found a way to let it into hers. That was something to be celebrated.

 

Of course, they would celebrate when all this was over.

 

“So, we have agreement.” Jack said. He knew it was likely the best choice to rule out anything that could have occurred. Maybe while there, he could try to lean on Sara to get looked at too. Even if the headaches were just a natural repercussion of the bonding, the Doctor might be able to give her something beneficial for the pain.

 

“No time to lose, then.” Nova said. “Not if we’re going to help with the brothers.”

 

“Yes, and I think…” Sara remembered a part of one episode where Sherlock was shot quite unexpectedly on the floor of a very high building. “I think we should hurry.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

The Doctor was a bit surprised at finding the group waiting outside his TARDIS. “Forgot something?” He asked.

 

“We want your word.” Sara said quietly.

 

“My word?”

 

“I’m going to trust you to examine me, Doctor.” Nova said. “I have to make sure that I won’t be the failure to what is about to happen because of the Master. If it did anything to me….”

 

“The bond I initiated was able to reinforce protections to your mind buuut….” He paused. “I’ll be happy to check.”

 

“Your word first.” Sara said. “That if she is examined by you and treated for that specific condition, you will let us off the TARDIS the moment that treatment is done.”

 

“Very well.” The Time Lord said. “You have my sincere and complete word as the Doctor, Head of the House of Lungbarrow. I will examine and medically treat you and allow you all to leave the TARDIS when that is done.” He looked at Nova. “Is that satisfactory?”

 

Nova nodded instantly, smiling gently at him. “Perfectly, thank you.”

 

“Then right this way.” He waved his hand in the direction of the correct corridor. He frowned softly when the two gentlemen followed them, but didn't’ comment either. When all five individuals were piled into his medbay, the two males by the door with Sara beside Nova, who was sitting on one of the beds, he asked, “So, what made you think of this?”

 

Nova looked down at her nervously twitching hands. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. He had me for a long time… Long enough.” Sara leaned in to hug her sideways, which the redhead appreciated greatly. “He said that he was going to fix my human side before I blacked out.”

 

The Doctor frowned hard at this little tidbit of information. “Hmm. Well, lay back and we’ll see what the scanner can pick up.” Dutifully, the girl eased herself backward by way of her elbows and then down fully. Sara kept a tight hold of her hand. The Doctor also noticed that Cillian had stepped forward to take Nova’s other hand, giving what comfort he could.

 

With so many so close, the Doctor actually felt a little self-conscious. Surprising, considering his age. But, nevermind. He had a patient to tend to. He swung the ADT down from its hiding spot, pulling it to the correct bed, and set the scanner to go for any genetic abnormalities, changes, or physical corrections. The ADT was a wonderful machine, but only capable of physicals. And mental or telepathic abnormalities would have to be checked a different way: the Doctor himself.

 

“We wanted to help with John and Mark. But didn’t know if I was a danger to the others.” Nova continued on her train of thought with why they had come to ask for a medical examination.

 

“Well, I corrected the Master’s stasis prison to also engage the telepathic lockdown. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore. Still, I am more than happy to give you any and all help you want.” He smiled at them both. “You are my family. I want the chance to get to know you. Teach you.” He had started strongly, but the longer he spoke the slower his words became as he read the scrolling Gallifreyan on the ADT screen.

 

Sara interrupted his offer. “A telepathic inhibitor field would only work if it was an active link the Master was using to control them. What if it was an implanted suggestion? Or an outside force through another?” She countered fiercely. Nova nodded her agreement.

 

The Doctor was momentarily not paying attention to them. Oh, he was listening, but the results of the scan were temporarily taking precedence in his mental triage center. Mental damage could not be detected by the ADT, but anything else could. The Doctor had thought that Nova had only been under the influence of the Master for perhaps ten minutes. He had based that assumption on when Sara had begun to feel pain through their familial bond. That much time would have let the Master just do what they had seen: suppress Nova’s memories and create new ones. However, based on what he was seeing from the scan, she had been in his care long enough for a few changes to be made to her physical health as well.

 

Either it was _much_ longer than he had estimated, or the Master had been prepared with the correct equipment. Able to immediately apply the desired treatments. He hoped, based on what Nova had said about the Master’s comment, it was the second. If it was the first, then they had much more to worry about.

 

Nova’s soft, quiet, timid, and scared voice penetrated his thoughts. “Doctor?” So much emotion in that one word question.

 

He glanced at her and realized all of them were eyeing him with various expressions. Worry. Fear. Distrust. “Sorry! Nothing to worry about.”

 

Sara’s eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. “Doctor. We aren’t children. Don’t lie to us.”

 

He sighed and nodded, acknowledging the truth in the statement. By human standards, they had been ‘mature’ for over a decade. While not even close to adults by Gallifreyan genes, they had not been raised Gallifreyan. “It seems that the Master was prepared for his encounter. You were given a serum to… speed up the conversion of DNA to TNA. You were at a natural 25% TNA.”

 

“And now?” Nova asked. She sounded calm, but he would have equated it to her hiding fear.

 

“Closer to 29%, and still increasing.”

 

Nova took a deep breath - putting on a brave face? - and nodded after a moment. “Anything else?”

 

“Not that the ADT can currently detect.”

 

“Okay. So, we can go help with the brothers then.” Nova shook her head to stall the protests she knew were coming. “I would like to distract myself right now. Since I take it from your lack of intervention, Doctor, that it can’t be fixed.”

 

He shook his head. “No, the change is permanent. Fortunately, it should stabilize at approximately 30%. Without another dose of the serum, it will stay at that level.”

 

“Okay.” She said again and moved to get off the bed. “Then let’s go help John and Mark.”

 

“I think you should let me take care of it.” He held up his hands as the girls protested. “Think about this. They want you there and you’ll-”

 

“ _They_ are our family.” Sara asserted strongly. “Might be just human to you, or men you used to help keep control of Earth but strange as they are, they were there to protect us and see to our care. We nearly died being poisoned by aspirin from the Master. One of the people he controlled. They saved our lives.”

 

“Sara, if they failed, they thought-”

 

“No.” Nova shook her head. “If it was just about keeping us safe from every physical threat, they could have locked us underground until you arrived and handed us over. They might be….eccentric but they listened. They tried to keep us safe and let us have our lives. For weeks now. Did you realize that John was playing the part of himself to keep a closer eye on us? Do you know even if he won’t admit it, that it’s been taxing on him to do it?” Nova paused to look at the Doctor more directly. “But he hasn’t complained. Not once. We were adversarial at first but now, we work together. They are like our own brothers.”

 

“And I never have had a brother.” Sara said, her voice rang with emotion. “If I lose either one of them….I just can’t.” Tears came to her eyes. Somehow until this moment, she didn’t realize how much the two men meant to her. And in some respects, she had gotten to know John far better since the two spent so much time on set together. All the long conversations they had about the stories or books she published versus the actual accounts of his life. He was like her brother or perhaps something similar to another best friend.

 

Her mind drifted back to one evening. He had gotten carry out from her favorite restaurant Rules complete with Sticky Toffee Pudding, her favorite dessert as they went over his lines. He was repeating the phrase ‘I’m a high functioning sociopath.’ in various ways and at one point, Sara burst out laughing.

 

 _‘And which one is correct? I assume by your response, you found the answer.’_ John asked.

 

 _‘The last three. But we use them in different episodes. Different context so when you say them, you imply different intent.’_ She raised her eyebrows. _‘Thoughts?’_

 

_‘One or two. My first phrase is a banter. The other a glib correction. My last an implied threat. You have  working scenarios for each?’_

 

Sara nodded. _‘Yes, I do.’_ She sighed. _‘John, I know this character is also you but you have to trust me. If anything is terribly wrong, I’ll change it. I have already from how it was in my dimension. How it was originally written….’_

 

_‘Yes?’_

 

_‘It wasn’t much like how you are.’_

 

_‘But I need to say I’m a high functioning sociopath.’_

 

_‘Bait and switch.’_

 

 _‘Ah, if only my parents saw things that way.’_ John admitted.

 

It was one of the first conversations she had about his life growing up. A life spent struggling to learn social cues, training, etiquette in some of the strictest environments and for John and Mark, the two men nearly went crazy with such instruction. To learn empathy, emotional empathy when initially none existed was no small feat. And even now, they were still learning. Doing the best they could. That’s why they needed each other. To keep each other on track. Then when the girls came, on some level it helped them too, in terms of social cues.

 

‘ _Nova and I, we don’t care about the Aspergers. We’re your friends. We’re also your family now. That means, we accept you as you are but….’ Sara trailed off._

 

_‘But?’_

 

_‘With a family, you need to talk to more than just your brother. Talking to us helps to. Even if we don’t understand at first. Even if I might have the IQ of a carrot or perhaps a larger stalk of broccoli, talk to us.’_

 

Sara swallowed, thinking about all those conversations. “We can’t stay here.” She said to the Doctor.

 

“You’ll both be safer in the TARDIS and I will do everything in my power to bring John and Mark back safely.”

 

“But you can’t guarantee it.” Sara said. “I invoke your promise to be let off the TARDIS and we will be going to the BBC to talk to them. So you can go off by yourself as we find another way inside, not know or have one plan….run a risk or we can come up with a solution to help them together.”

 

“I’m with Sara.” Nova said quietly. “Beside, if it’s telepathic suggestions or a part of the Master he managed to transfer to them, you’ll need telepathic assistance. If anyone gets harmed, you’ll need Sara to heal. So, what will it be?”

 

“Guess I have no choice, now do I?” Admittedly, the Doctor was proud, even if he was worried. They were surely of his house. Lungbarrow through and through. Their determination said as much. “Alright, I have a transmat device to send us to the 20th floor, just two floors beneath where they are holding the hostages. All three of us will wear bio-dampers and perception filters. It will buy us time.”

 

“Alright.” Suddenly Sara’s arms wrapped around her stomach. A vision. A brief one at that. John shot and bleeding on the floor. He was dying. She shook her head adamantly, she couldn’t let him die. “John….he’s in trouble. We need to go. He’s….” She swallowed. “The Master might try to kill him. If I’m not there in time…”

 

There was no further hesitation as the transmat device was activated and the three of them instantly found themselves on the 20th floor of the BBC. Everything was eerily quiet. At least, for now.

 

Nova found the silence so thick that she felt incredibly uneasy about making any sort of noise. Almost as if there was an actual presence weighing down on them, watching their every move and waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Wait…wasn’t there an exception for telepathic inhibitors other than suggestions? Something about being trapped… She tried to search her memory for the piece of information she seemed to need right now. Otherwise, why was she thinking about it? Or was it a way for her mind to try to distract her from the tense situation? Possible.

 

But, no. There was still that niggling in the back of her mind trying to make a connection between telepathic inhibitors and disembodied presences. What was it?!

 

She blinked away the thoughts. Whatever it was, she couldn’t recall exactly what was wrong. Some detail she had dreamed about years ago, maybe even decades ago. So far back in her memory that it was difficult to retrieve. Especially considering they were trying to participate in a rescue mission. She gave a mental sigh.

 

As Nova was trying to recall such seemingly innocuous information, the group had begun its forward mission up almost to the 20th floor itself. When they reached the desired altitude, Jack -as the one with the most weapons experience - took the front position with the Doctor reluctantly a step behind. The girls were in the middle and Cillian brought up the rear. Jack peered around corners, looking for trips, traps, and sentries. Once he determined that there were none, he would guide them forward again to the next corner.

 

Though none of them said anything - all seeming to hate to break the oppressive silence - all members of the group noticed the heavy feeling in the air. How suspicious it was that it was so incredibly easy to walk around. Nothing barring their way so far. It was exceedingly unnerving.

 

The farther in they went, the tenser things got. Tenser they felt, even without meeting any obstacles. To the point where, when they finally found the large antechamber studio the two brothers were hiding, along with the group of hostages, it was almost a physical relief.

 

The hostages, five in all, looked like a random group of BBC employees who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Two males and three females. One of the males, around his mid-twenties, was crying silent tears. The other was in his later years, graying at his temples, and was holding onto an older woman with wide, afraid eyes; perhaps his wife. The last two females were polar opposites. One severe with a coif hairstyle and black pants suit, some executive in all likelihood, was calmly glaring at the floor. The other was a petite late-teens intern and was blubbering even more than the young male.

 

However different they were, each hostage wore a black bulletproof vest strapped with some type of explosive. Considering the shape and the color, it was probably either Semtex or C-4.

 

Yet, it wasn’t the hostages that had caught Nova’s eyes and held them. Oh, she had seen the small huddled group sitting against the far wall, but only enough to acknowledge their presence, numbers, and general state of health. No, it was the brothers that held her attention. Something was very, very _wrong_.

 

To begin with - leaving out that the brothers would have no reason to take hostages in the first place - Mark was _pacing the room_ , making a broad circle and was currently at the far side away from the group watching the room. In all the time she had known the unofficial president of earth, she had never seen him show any sort of nervous energy. Nervous _anything_. He was always the calm, rational, level-headed one. He didn’t even raise his voice! He didn’t need to. His very presence evoked a sense of order, respect, and obedience.

 

John was also behaving oddly, though not as oddly as his brother. John was standing away, still and silent. Away from his brother and away from the hostages. Away from the single window. Away from the entrance. Just _away_. Off in a corner of the room, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, not speaking. But his eyes never left his brother’s moving form.

 

Knowing the two as they did, Jack, Sara, and Nova immediately drew several conclusions. One: John had nothing to do with this, he had gone along with whatever _this_ was to keep his brother in his sight. Two: something was extremely wrong with Mark.

 

No matter what the brothers may say, each cared a great deal about the other. John would literally do anything for his brother. Kidnapping hostages, going on international television to take credit for bombings, and coercion - while not the least of which - definitely made the list. He would kill and torture for his brother. He would stand by his brother’s side and face the Doctor down, if that was what was needed. Today, such commitment was necessary.

 

Nova understood John’s actions and even approved. It was similar to her situation with Sara, after all. However, that still didn’t explain Mark. Suddenly, a spark in her memory triggered as she watched the man circle around the room for a second time.

 

_Telepathic inhibitors weren’t capable of forcing a mind back into it’s original body._

 

Her hands rose to cover her mouth in horror as she realized why they all felt an unnatural presence in the building. Because there was one. The Master had gone on a mental walkabout, taken over Mark Gatiss, and proceeded to make the man do as he wished. As intelligent, calm, and rational as the man was…Mark was still only human. Nothing in comparison to a Time Lord. Let alone one of the best telepaths Gallifrey had to offer.

 

And now Mark was presently host to one of the most significant telepaths Gallifrey had in history and for this, the Doctor sensed the truth too. All three did through the bond as soon as Nova made the realization. At one point,  it had taken the strength of the bond to force the Master to relinquish his control over Nova, including a false proposal. All the energy the Doctor usurped from the bond to make that shadow of Sara look and feel convincing and effective at first was a struggle.

 

The Master had taken Nova and wanted her but she had resisted, given him her consent. He was driving her consciousness back while effectively changing her residual DNA to TNA for a successful secondary try until the Doctor had successfully tricked him with Sara. But in doing so, the Master used his telepathic ability to float in the vast mental web that once hosted so many Time Lords. But a Time Lord couldn’t exist there for an indeterminate length of time without a body.

 

“Oh, Doctor, how lovely it is that you paid us a visit.” It was Mark, now exceedingly alert to their presence, while he turned in step from his present course of pacing on the floor. “And you brought the family too. That is considerate.” He looked at Nova, who shivered. It wasn’t from looking at Mark precisely but the very presence emanating from him. “Nova, I’ve been waiting for you.” He paused to look at Sara. “And you, how very effective you were as a decoy. An amusing trick.”

 

“It wasn’t me.” Sara told him slowly. “Mark,” she tried. “We can help you.”

 

“Oh don’t bother talking to him.” Mark said with a voice of disgust.

 

“Why not?” Nova posed. She remembered some of the things the Master said about humans and looked around the room with concern. So many humans there. In desperation, in panic….very much afraid. They all had families, people who worried about them. She swallowed. “Why not?” She repeated. “I’m human.” She told him. At least most of her still was.

 

“An error I’m intent on correcting,” he countered.

 

“And Sara?” Nova asked. “She’s human too. Even if you change our DNA, it won’t change where we came from. Our origins. We’re human.” She inhaled briefly. “And you are sitting inside a human host.”

 

“The things one must do in order to survive.” Mark muttered.

 

“Is that all?” Sara challenged. “Survival? If you think humans are degenerate, what kept you from killing them by now?” She asked and the hostages all tensed at her words. “You kept John alive, why?”

 

“Merely boredom.” Mark claimed but they could see the frown forming on his face.

 

“Oh ho ho, not something I would expect to hear from the Master.” The Doctor interrupted. “It is very much a familiar statement that I hear from Mark. You’re hearing his voice right now, aren’t you?”

 

“The drums don’t drown him out do they?” Nova asked.

 

He stared at her relentlessly in a glare that was withering as she remained in place. In the interim, the Doctor stepped forward, a plan in mind. “What about a game, old friend? Just you and me.”

 

“What manner of game do you propose?” The Master challenged with a grin.

“I think you’ve been around humans far too long. Expect me to sit down to a game of chess and simply concede if you prove to capture my queen?”

 

“Not at all.” The Doctor said. “A mind bending competition.” He pronounced. He felt his granddaughters cringe at the idea. They knew how mentally strong the Master was regardless of body. “I’ve had a few centuries to practice. Do you still consider yourself the finest telepath Gallifrey has ever had to offer?” It was a direct blow to the Master’s pride. Of course he still did. He refined and took pride in beating other competitors.

 

“Well played.” The Master grinned, showing a frightening array of teeth. “I do accept.” He paused. “On one condition.”

 

It made the Doctor hesitate warily. “What condition?”

 

In one movement, the Master seized Nova, pulling her forward. “My game will be with her.” He stared at the red head. “After all, we were far from being finished.” He made contact with her temple as Nova started to scream.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Well played.” The Master grinned, showing a frightening array of teeth. “I do accept.” He paused. “On one condition.”

 

It made the Doctor hesitate warily. “What condition?”

 

In one movement, the Master seized Nova, pulling her forward. “My game will be with her.” He stared at the red head. “After all, we were far from being finished.” He made contact with her temple as Nova started to scream.

 

**Chapter 15**

 

“Consent.” He commanded. Being bonded with Nova’s mind would give him the strength he needed to drop the telepathic inhibitor. He delivered controlled bursts of pain into her mind. The Doctor rushed forward as Mark stepped back against the glass windows, shooting the glass to shatter it.

 

“Twenty floors.” The Master said. “Do you really want to risk it? What’s a human body to me? I can obtain another but will Nova survive the fall?”

 

He was looking at the three, hardly expecting an attack from the side. Directly from where John broke free of the paralysis of the choice presented in front of him. In that final motion, Nova barely fell to the ground as the sound of a gunshot resonated around the room.

 

Mark’s sickening scream as he plummeted was heard with a very familiar grinding sound.

 

“No!” Sara cried out, racing to Nova’s side and then they attempted to look outside the window.

 

The Doctor pulled both back before they could see. “No.” His voice was firm. “We need to get back to the TARDIS.” He ordered. “If we have any chance at saving him, it will be there.”

 

Sara was shaking and took a moment to look at John, her eyes widening in horror. He had been shot directly in the chest and was losing consciousness, fading rapidly on the floor in front of her.

 

“Go.” She told Nova as Cillian raced up to join her. “Promise me you’ll save him….just do your best….”

 

She was shivering as she stared at John. What if what the Master said was true? What if he could change bodies at will? Would any telepathic inhibitor contain him? And what he tried to do to Nova….she struggled to concentrate on the task ahead.

 

She only hoped Mark wouldn’t pay the price for all of their foolish choices.

 

Sara knelt beside where John was bleeding out, his eyes already closed as his body began to shut down from the blood loss. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw all but Jack leave the room at a dead run, including the hostages. Instead of staring at them, she focused all her attention to John himself and the idea of healing him. She had healed Nova several times and self-healed instinctively. Surely she could heal someone other than Nova?

 

She put her hands on top of the entry wound, pushing down with all her might - ignoring the way the pressure made John groan in pain - trying desperately to _force_ the healing energy she knew she possessed into the dying man. With only Jack as a witness, a golden light began to slowly effuse, starting in her skin and trickling down into the area under her palms. It seemed to take forever and yet very little time passed when John suddenly gave a very dramatic intake of breath and his eyes popped open.

 

Sara smiled at him, pulling her arms away in tired relief. “Not bad for a first try, huh?” she barely managed to teasingly deliver before Jack had to catch her as she tilted slightly sideways.

 

xxxxxxxxxx

 

The Doctor held Nova’s hand tightly as he used the transmat to take them back to Cillian’s apartment and then ran to his TARDIS. Cillian was running beside Nova, who still gripped his hand just as warmly. The man didn’t say much, but he was always there, ready to give support when needed or wanted.

 

When they reached the control room, the Doctor let go of Nova to race to the correct controls. She paused at the entrance when she felt the tug at her hand. Cillian. She turned to look at him with confusion, but smiled at him questioningly. He just shook his head, “We’re about to go out again.”

 

“Not quite. I’m going to materialize around Mark and transport him directly to the infirmary, where I can hopefully save his life.” The Doctor had apparently heard Murphy’s comment and responded.

 

Nova faced the Doctor again, “Can I help?”

 

“Not sure. We’ll see when I ascertain how bad the damage is. Already putting up a stasis lock. So if he isn’t already dead, he’ll stay that way!” The Doctor answered, flipping switches hastily, but precisely, then taking off again down the hallway, presumably to the infirmary. By the time he was finished speaking, he was already halfway down the corridor, forcing him to yell his response to ensure being heard.

 

When Nova, Cillian by her side once again - or still depending on your point of view - the Doctor was already in a flurry of motion as he tried to save the life of the human.

 

Mark’s form was…broken was a polite way of putting it. One of his arms was at an odd angle, as well as both legs being obviously broken. The left leg and arm both having compound fractures. The ADT was blinking shades of mauve over several parts of Mark’s body, including his lungs - one was punctured by several broken ribs - a ruptured spleen, liver, and massive skull trauma.

 

After all, twenty floors down equated to approximately 200 feet. If the Doctor stopped to think too long, he would wonder how the man was still alive, as he should have died almost instantly. However, the Doctor had made sure _no one_ saw Mark’s body before he had brought it into his TARDIS, which meant that he had been able to snag the man only a picosecond after impact. Mark was hanging by the metaphorical thread, in some ways almost literally.

 

The Doctor needed all his concentration to save the man, directing Nova and Cillian absentmindedly to give him specific tools, serums, and other equipment so that he could focus. He never noticed that most of the time his requests had been telepathic, but answered immediately anyway.

 

Nova actually preferred the telepathic directions. They came with images of what was needed instead of just trying to guess by the name of the instrument what he wanted. Cillian did his best, with his profound research theory of former roles, to retrieve the needed verbally requested items. Nova took care of the rest.

 

By the time the Doctor could relax backward a little, it had been long enough for Sara, Jack, and John to join them.

 

“Is he going to be alright?” John asked. He remembered the decision he was forced to make and it came down to the rule of logic. In those precise moments, the Master had demonstrated he was willing to dispense with his brother’s life to obtain an objective. Two lives were at risk. The Doctor wasn’t at the angle to deliver the attack that could cause him to slip off balance. There was a higher percentage of chance he could save Nova rather than simply stand and therefore save neither one. Sara could heal. Although, he didn’t think the ratio was particularly high on a fall of twenty stories, it was a factor.

 

But he also had considered the risk he would be the one getting shot. And in those moments, made critical decisions as to his fall. He buffered himself in his loci, or mind palace as Sara described. Seconds passed like hours where he was paid torment by the Master wearing Mark’s face inside his own room just to ridicule him. Then the light came. One he recognized. He headed out the door.

 

Jack was holding up Sara who was struggling to regain the use of her otherwise lethargic form. He glanced down to see his blood splattered shirt, pausing momentarily. “Thank you.” He finally offered.

 

“You saved Nova’s life.” Sara told him. “You saved us. This was...it was due. But I’m sorry. I watched him fall. I couldn’t…” She took a deep breath. “I had to choose,” she said. She knew if she left John there, he would be dead within a minute or two. They had heard the grinding noise of the ship, which suggested a paradox. The Doctor crossed his own time stream. She hoped it was enough.

 

“The Doctor is working on him.” Jack said to her. He had gotten off the phone.

 

“And Nova?” John asked, his voice still.

 

“She’s assisting with his surgery. She’s fine.” Jack’s tone had softened. What he had seen the two brothers do, what John did even though he so clearly loved his brother, had to be the most horrid choice the man ever had to make. _Who could easily choose between people you love?_ And for that, Jack smiled. Those who accused the brothers of being without heart or having no love all this time were wrong. They did love and now their love had extended.

 

“He’s still alive?” Sara asked hopefully.

 

“You know him.” Jack said. “He doesn’t give up on things easily. His life most of all.”

 

“Then a few minutes.” Her voice was tired. “We’ll run there and I’ll heal him too.”

 

“No.” John’s voice was absolute. “Healing me has taken a toll on your physical condition. We’ve never observed you healing more than one person in a twelve hour period. I won’t risk complications.”

 

“But your brother-”

 

“Is still alive. The Doctor and Nova have the skill necessary to survive.” John said. “I see no reason, however, why we shouldn’t pay a visit.”

 

So between the two, they had taken Sara back to the TARDIS. By the time they reached Cillian’s flat, strength enough had returned so she could walk.

 

She insisted she should, not wanting to play the invalid longer than she already had.

 

“Nova?” She asked quietly, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder when she entered the medbay. She was just standing next to Cillian, clutching his hand in support, before turning to embrace Sara.

 

“The Doctor said he’ll make it. The surgery went well and he gave him an injection of nanites and painkillers.” Nova turned to look at Mark. At the moment, he was asleep, with a blanket drawn up to his shoulders.

 

Sara nodded, fixed on the spot as she watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful in that moment. Not like the Master or the powerful head of the world that served as a spokesmen to the Doctor. Sleep had made him look vulnerable.

 

“John said I shouldn’t risk healing him but-”

 

“John is right.” The Doctor said, looking at John approvingly. For once. “Too much energy depleted too fast could leave you susceptible to a coma.”

 

“I do remember distinctly saying ‘no’.” John said. “I don’t believe ‘no’ means, ask again for an alternate and better answer to your preference.”

 

Even if his tone was flat, it was a surefire jest. To this, the Doctor internally smiled. Who but family, even if they weren’t blood, could tease in such a way? He had his sonic out, measuring Sara’s energy levels since her last heal before pausing. He frowned. He thought the energy patterns, initially that Nova echoed when Sara was in proximity, was a reflection of the bond’s physical manifestation and how it reacted with Sara’s TARDIS energy.

 

But now John was echoing that same energy signature. His cells were being constantly renewed now, like Nova and Sara’s. He now realized what it meant. His lifespan was now attached to Sara. As long as Sara lived, so would he and so would Nova. He inhaled deeply. Whenever Sara fully healed someone, it created….he glanced at Jack. Weeell, not exactly. If John died, which would take some effort now, he would stay dead but still….Sara was inadvertently introducing regenerative properties into someone else’s blood.

 

The Doctor cleared his throat, thinking of the implications.

 

“The Master?” Sara asked. “Is he….out of Mark?”

 

“Oh yes.” The Doctor said. “Telepathic inhibitor was on however….” He paused before continuing. “The Master, he was out of his body too long and the telepathic connection that adheres the two...by the time I came back it was too late. His body had already died.”

 

“But his mind?” Nova asked. “Can his mind survive?”

 

“The mind or mental signature degraded but not before a data ghost was created.” He looked at the girls. “Not to worry. I managed to trap it on one of the servers with a clever piece of code and field in place.” He smiled reassuringly while trying to hide a disturbed feeling he had.

 

“Which server?” John asked. The BBC had a few of the biggest servers in the world.

 

“Kelvin.” The Doctor replied. “We’ll have it moved.”

 

“Yes.” John was thinking rapidly. “I’ll order a memorial to be built for the studio that was recently destroyed. It will be effective at avoiding public scrutiny while creating a refuge for the data ghost and a place where the loss of life is visibly mourned.” He paused looking at the two girls. “Kelvin Memorial Archive.” He looked at the two girls. “Does that sound appropriate?” He paid a glance to his brother.

 

Sara shrugged. “Well, it’s a bit obvious. Naming it after the server, isn’t it?”

 

Nova felt a faint sense of….something. She wasn’t sure what. “But you always talk about transparency.” She reminded Sara.

 

“Exactly.” John nodded. “Hiding in plain sight.” He walked up to his brother’s side before looking at the Doctor. “You were scanning me. There was something you found.” It wasn’t a guess.

 

“The four of us should talk.” The Doctor said finally.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
